


Buried in the Ice

by moontear



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-12
Updated: 2014-11-28
Packaged: 2017-11-25 05:59:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/635843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moontear/pseuds/moontear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sora's lost his memory. When he comes to, he discovers he's married to a man named Squall, but the only thing Sora remembers is his name. That, and an image that keeps playing in his mind, over and over again: a boy with green eyes and silver hair. A boy that nobody seems to know. Why would Sora have kept him from everyone? At the risk of his marriage, he's on a search to find out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Losing It

**Author's Note:**

> A special thanks to hesteen for beta-ing this chapter for me! She catches crap I overlook all the time. Without her, you guys would be reading some pretty funky sentences.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Square Enix's _Kingdom Hearts_ , nor am I making any money off this fanfiction.

 

It was quiet enough in the snow that Sora could stand out in it without having his thoughts interrupted. The snowflakes fell to the ground in lazy circles, never making a sound as they landed atop their brethren. The cold emanating from that ice had frozen his cheeks, and the wind had painted them red, but he was long past noticing. He was too busy gazing skyward, his eyes not on the clouds but on a memory within.

 

He was playing with… someone… he wasn't sure who. It was a young man, and he was taller than Sora by a few inches, with silky, silver hair and eyes so green they made Sora's heart ache. He had a wide grin on his face, smugness twinkling in those eyes as he crashed into Sora, sending them toppling into the snow as the powdery stuff rose all around them from the disturbance.

 

 _"C'mere, you goof!"_ echoed in Sora's head. The words sounded like they were coming from far away, at the end of a long tunnel perhaps. They lit something within Sora, some… tingle of recognition, but it was gone as soon as it had come. He focused on it. Tried as hard as he could to hold onto it, but like the snow when it touched his warm skin, the voice and the memory with it melted into water and slid from his grasp.

 

He was just glad he remembered his name.

 

It was all he had left.

 

Sora took an unsteady step forward, and the snow crunched beneath his boots. He looked down at them. They were sturdy, black and waterproof. But a splash of color on the snow beside him caught his attention. It was scarlet, a quickly growing stain on the environment. As he watched, another drop joined the first, followed by several more, forming a puddle.

 

What…?

 

A sound finally broke through the wintry world. Sirens. Sora turned toward them, but everything was dark at the edges of his vision, dizzying. He blinked several times, lifted a hand covered in a mitten, and for the first time he noticed that the cream fabric was covered in shards. He picked one up, examining it in the moonlight. Glass?

 

The sirens grew louder, their wails piercing Sora's ears. He flinched, staggering to the side, only to find slick purchase on the ice and tumble into the snow. He lay there for several moments, his breath making small clouds in the air before him. The snow had already begun falling thicker, fat snowflakes that tickled his nose and cheeks with pricks of cold. He didn't have the energy to lift his hand to brush them away, or better yet, to rise into a standing position.

 

All he could do was think about how comforting the blackness that crept over him was. It was coaxing him into sleep, and honestly, that seemed like such a great thing at the moment. In sleep, he could forget about his worries, his new fears, the panic that was trying to engulf him, surging forth from the back of his mind.

 

The last thing he saw before he gave himself over was the crimson and white glare of an ambulance, flickering through the snow and tree branches.

 

 

* * *

 

Waking up was a surreal experience.

 

He opened his eyes slowly, half-expecting his lashes to be glued together with ice. When they weren't, he swallowed against his dry throat and tried to rise into a sitting position. The movement made him weak, but he managed, soft sheets falling to his waist. He touched them, then lifted his eyes to survey his surroundings.

 

A bedroom.

 

It had a hardwood floor, a simple dresser made of dark oak, and a window overlooking a snowy yard with a white picket fence. White drapes covered the window, and the molding around it was just as pristine, a pretty backdrop alongside the tan coloring of the walls. Sora leaned against what felt like large pillows and let his eyes roam to the other side of the room.

 

A door, probably one that led to a bathroom, another dresser—much larger—with a mirror attached, and a clothes hamper, made of dark whicker to match the furniture. The bed itself was king-sized, framed from head to foot, the comforter on top a dark, dark blue. It was simple in its appearance, but soft when Sora ran his hand over it.

 

"Sora?"

 

He jerked, the voice as foreign and unfamiliar as everything else. A figure appeared at the second doorway, the one in front of the bed, and he paused there, his hand on the doorknob. He was tall, with chocolate brown hair and piercing gray eyes, and very handsome, though a scar ran diagonally along his nose. It was new, an angry red slash that held stitches.

 

Relief crossed those features, but was, strangely, replaced almost immediately by an expression close to apathy. The man came to the bed, on Sora's side, and sat down on the edge, his hand reaching out to take Sora's. Sora instinctively jerked his own away, his eyes widening in his face. He bit his lip, uncertain. Who was this person? They knew him, that much was clear. But how?

 

"Sora…" the man began hesitantly. He blinked hard, then looked down. He gave a slow shake of his head. "…I know it was my fault. I started the fight, and then I hit that black ice, I lost control of the car, and then…" He closed his eyes, clearly in pain. "But it's been _weeks_. Are you really still not going to talk to me?"

 

Sora opened his mouth. Closed it. He was very unsure of what to say. Didn't even know where to begin. Words played themselves over in his mind. _Who are you?_ was followed by _I wish I knew what you were talking about, can you tell me?_ But nothing felt right, and so they stayed latched in his throat.

 

The man looked up. Now the pain was raw in his eyes. It made his scar stand out more vividly than ever. When Sora focused on it, something flashed through him. Feelings of darkness. Guilt, anxiety, his own pain, grief. Why? Had he had something to do with it?

 

"Sora… I know I've never been good at this emotional stuff…" This time when the man reached for his hand, Sora let him take it. He was captivated by those gray eyes and all the knowledge they held, knowledge Sora desperately needed. "But I meant what I said before… the accident. I love you. I do. Can you… God, can you please just _say_ something to me?"

 

"I…" Sora found his voice hoarse from disuse. He cleared his throat several times to try and amend that, though it didn't do much good, so he settled for dealing with it. It would sound right again on its own. "I know this is going to probably upset you, but… um… who _are_ you?"

 

Those gray eyes opened wide. Then they narrowed. "What? Sora, is this some kind of joke?"

 

"Uh…" A bit taken aback by the sudden anger heating the other's voice, Sora shook his head, only to stop when the world tilted at alarming angles. He reached up with a small groan to grasp his head. "Ugh… I feel like I'm gonna vomit…"

 

The hand around his tightened. "Do I need to help you to the bathroom?"

 

"No… I just…" When the nausea had passed, Sora leaned back into his pillows. His head hadn't stopped hurting, however. Now he could feel an ache pulsing near his temple. "Look, this isn't a joke, okay? I really have no idea what's going on. The last thing I remember is… God, I don't know. It's all… wiped clean. Everything." He gestured with his free hand. "I don't know why I'm not having a panic attack right now."

 

It was true. His thoughts were shrouded in gray numbness. Nothing was making it through. Nothing except minor confusion.

 

"The pain killers," his companion told him. He shifted on the bed, causing it to creak. "What do you mean, you don't remember? The doctor said you were just fine, just—just earlier this morning you were walking around, talking on the phone to your parents…"

 

"Yeaaaah, none of that sounds remotely familiar." Sora frowned at him. "If that's true, then how come I don't remember anything now?"

 

The man got up abruptly from the bed, his hands to his head as he stormed out of the room. Sora stared after him. In the time it took to make four blinks, the guy was back, his hands waving in useless circles in front of him as his mouth opened but no sound came out. Finally, he tightened his lips and glared out the window, a hand on his hip, the other fisted by his side. Tension was coming off him in waves, so strong it was making Sora start to feel uncomfortable.

 

"I can't believe this." The taller man pinched the bridge of his nose above his scar and squeezed his eyes shut. _Does that hurt him?_ "This is—this is just… impossible. You were _fine_. You passed all of your neurological tests, the doctor sent you home because your brain was _healing_ from the damage it sustained, and now… what, _this_?"

 

"I'm just as freaked out as you are," Sora assured him. He'd meant it to come out as defiant, but instead it was a quiet, defeated whisper. He didn't like how it sounded in his ears. On the other hand, it seemed to calm Mr. Angry Pants, and he slumped his shoulders, bowing his head with a sigh. Slowly, he made his way back to Sora's bed. This time, he didn't sit down.

 

"You're—you're being serious, right? You don't remember anything?"

 

"Just my name," Sora supplied weakly. Not liking the guy so upset, he reached over, patting his hand. "So why don't you start by telling me yours?"

 

"Squall…" the other man murmured. "Squall Leonhart."

 

"Okay." Sora nodded, his spikes bobbing with the movement. "And I'm Shiozu Sora."

 

"No," Squall whispered. "You're not _Shiozu_ Sora. You're…" But he licked his lips, shaking his head. It made Sora tilt his head to the side, his confusion over the matter deepening. If he wasn't Shiozu Sora, then who the hell was he? His companion didn't elaborate, looking everywhere but at him.

 

"What?" Sora pressed. "What's my last name?"

 

The other man passed a hand over his brow. Buried his fingers in his hair. Shut his eyes so tightly stars must have burst across his vision. "I can't believe this is happening," he whispered, which was _so_ not what Sora wanted to hear, and impatience rose within him.

 

"Seriously, man. What's my last name?"

 

"Leonhart," Squall bit out. He got up from the bed again, and this time when he left the room, he didn't come back.

 

Sora slumped in disbelief, that last uttered word banging around inside of his head. _Leonhart, Leonhart, Leonhart… LeonhartLeonhartLeonhart…_

"Right," Sora muttered. Right.

 

He was married, and he couldn't remember his husband, he couldn't even remember that he was apparently _gay_ , and to top it all off, he couldn't remember anything beyond that, either. It was enough to threaten that panic attack's arrival he kept waiting for. It couldn't break through the fog clouding his mind, though, so after a moment, Sora just closed his eyes and settled for breathing.

 

What. The. Fuck.

 

 

* * *

"What do you mean, he doesn't remember anything?" Aerith stood in the mudroom of the Leonharts' house, the blanketed basket in her hands lightly sprinkled with snow. Cute mittens covered her hands, pink with daisies, and they matched her peacoat, a darker pink. The bow her boyfriend Zack had given her for her twenty-fifth birthday held her hair back in a braid.

 

"He doesn't remember anything," Squall repeated gruffly. He didn't feel like debating this in the mudroom, or even at all, but Aerith wasn't going to budge until she was given an explanation as to why she couldn't go in the house. "Maybe you should come back another time—"

 

"Nonsense," she replied, brushing past him and taking the step up into the kitchen. She set her basket on the nearby table, stripping off her gloves. "Have you called the doctor yet?"

 

Squall debated standing there and simply not answering her. It was the more appealing option, but he knew Aerith. Might as well make this headache as minimal as possible, he thought, and so he closed the door behind her, following. "Of course."

 

"And?" she prompted, bending to unlace her boots.

 

"And… he just… said that each brain injury is unique, and that he can slot Sora in for this afternoon." That wasn't the whole of it, but it would do. Honestly, all Squall had heard coming from that guy's mouth was Bullshit, Bullshit, and more Bullshit.

 

Aerith surveyed him, her green eyes sharp as always. Her voice, when she spoke, was calm. "Is that all of it, Squall?"

 

Damn it. "No."

 

"Well?" she pressed, tilting her head.

 

Squall pinched the bridge of his nose. It was fast becoming a habit. To make matters worse, he could hear Sora moving around in their bedroom. "Please…" And he was trying to be _nice_ , because Aerith wouldn't listen to him otherwise. "…Can you just come back later? This is a lot to deal with right now."

 

"Unless you've suddenly been replaced by a friendly blue alien, I think I'm good to stay," Aerith replied. She was referencing an old stuffed animal Squall had had as a kid called Pupu. That she remembered that rankled and made his ears heat. If she noticed, she failed to remark on it, striding through the kitchen toward his bedroom. "Sora," she called. "It's me, Aerith. I've brought those cookies you like. Russian tea cakes."

 

Any other day, Sora would have whooped with delight and hurried to greet her. Today was much more somber. Aerith paused as no one answered her, arching a brow over her shoulder at Squall before shrugging and soldiering on. Squall opted to stay in the kitchen, as that seemed safest. He slid down the cabinets, until his ass hit the floor and he could lift his knees in front of him. He tilted his head back and sighed.

 

This was a nightmare.

 

 

* * *

 

Probably an entire five minutes had passed—barely—before Squall heard footsteps thudding on the nearest hallway floor. Sora came into view scant seconds later, flushed and out of breath. He thrust a shaky finger in the direction of their bedroom, his blue eyes wide with fear.

 

"Who is _that_?"

 

"That's…" Words failed Squall for a moment. Of all things, he hadn't anticipated _this_ reaction, especially not toward Aerith, of all their friends. Aerith had such a calm, soothing presence. She could make anybody feel comfortable, even Squall, and he was the most anti-social out of all of them, sometimes in the extreme.

 

"Well?" Sora demanded, his voice raising an octave. His throat worked as he swallowed, his face heating further from embarrassment at the note he'd achieved. "Who is she?"

 

"Aerith," Squall replied slowly. For a moment, he wasn't sure what to do. Comforting someone… well, it wasn't his forte. In point of fact, it was a part of their relationship they constantly struggled over. "Look, um…" He raised a hand to his hair, rustling it. "I don't—"

 

"Sora!" Aerith appeared on the scene. She was clearly frazzled, bewilderment lurking in her eyes as her hands landed firmly on her hips. "What _is_ the matter?"

 

"I don't _know you_ ," he retorted hotly. "I don't know _either_ of you! Do you really think this is the best idea right now?!" This question was aimed at Squall as Sora whirled in his direction. "First I find out I'm _married_ —that I'm married to a _dude_ —which is difficult enough to swallow, and now you sic _her_ on me? What is wrong with you?!"

 

Before Squall could even formulate a reply, Aerith's voice rang out, crisp with the sternness she showed toward particularly rowdy children in her kindergarten classes. "Sora Leonhart! I understand you're under some distress—but that's _no reason_ to be rude to either of us! If you feel uncomfortable, just say so!"

 

Sora wilted, but only a little. "Fine! I'm _uncomfortable_ being called Sora Leonhart! I'm Shiozu Sora!"

 

The pang that hit Squall's heart was difficult to swallow. He had to turn away.

 

"I want to know what the hell is going on with me! Where I am, why I'm here, what happened to make me lose my _memory_ —" Sora ranted on.

 

"And we will tell you those things." Now Aerith's voice was soothing, placating, in a way Squall had never been able to manage. Part of him twinged with jealousy, the other defeat. The fight that had caused the accident with Sora was still fresh in his mind, even after these last few weeks. "But first, we have a few questions of our own to ask." There was a pregnant pause. When nobody spoke, Aerith cleared her throat. " _Right_ , Squall?"

 

"Actually…" Squall strode toward the door without looking back. He kicked on his boots, shrugged his bomber jacket on. "I got a message from Cloud. He needs someone to pick him up from his shift at the hospital. His car's in the shop." It was the most he'd spoken in a single paragraph in days, and for Aerith, it was the only explanation that would come close to being acceptable.

 

He didn't wait around for her response. In moments, he was in his car and speeding down the road for the highway.

 

 

* * *

 

Sora gaped after Squall's departure. Aerith stood awkwardly beside him, her hand still raised to possibly stop Squall, Sora wasn't sure.

 

"What the hell was _that_?" he exclaimed, miffed. He threw his arm in an angry swipe toward the door. "He's supposed to be my husband, and he bails at a time where I probably need him the most?!"

 

"Eh… heh heh…" Aerith's giggle was nervous as she scratched at her temple with a fingertip. Sora noticed she wouldn't look anywhere at him. "That's Squall for you…"

 

" _Why_ would I marry _him_ of all people?"

 

"Because!" She reached forward, grabbing up his hands. He was too stunned by the movement to immediately snatch them back. He eyed her warily as she bent at the waist, leaning in close, so much so that their noses were only a few inches apart.

 

"What, are you trying to peer into my soul right now?"

 

A giggle escaped her, which she quickly stifled by biting her lip. "Sora…" She arched a brow. "Squall's really a great big teddy bear inside!"

 

"Right… And Eskimos make igloos out of horse shit…"

 

"Sora—"

 

Without waiting to hear what else she had to say, Sora charged through the kitchen, intent on the mudroom where he'd seen Squall vanish. She made a startled noise, calling for him. Whatever she wanted to tell him, it could wait. He had to get out of here. _Now_. Everything was too stifling, just—too much.

 

"Sora! Where are you going?" She was behind him in a flash, gripping his arm.

 

He yanked away. " _Out_ ," he said pointedly.

 

"You can't drive—not with your head injury—!"

 

"Do you see any keys?!" he spat at her. Maybe this was unlike him, judging by the way her eyes widened. The thing was, though, he didn't know _who_ he was, how he behaved. All he had was his name. And really, he didn't even have that anymore, did he? Not if he was _married_ , of all things. "I'm going on a walk. Please—just leave me alone."

 

"Sora, I just don't think it's a very good idea—"

 

He slammed the door in her face.

 

 

* * *

 

"What do you want me to tell you, Squall?" Cloud's words were quiet between them, even with the radio off and the heater a dull, muted sound.

 

Squall sighed, shifting. The leather of his seat squeaked at the movement. He let his eyes roam to the window as they rolled to a traffic light maybe five blocks from his house. The snow hadn't let up yet, falling in thick sheets, blanketing the ground in the same quiet that prevailed in the BMW.

 

"I'm not a neurologist…"

 

"But isn't it _weird_?" Squall swung his eyes back to his blond friend. He'd known Cloud since they were children. They'd grown up in the same town together, along with Aerith and a few others. This town. Radiant Garden. "He was _fine_. Now suddenly his mind is completely wiped?"

 

His friend's blue eyes flickered. He shook his head with a slow swing of his spiky hair. "I'm not his doctor."

 

"Yes, but you're _a_ doctor," Squall bit out. His frustration was building to a boiling point, even though he knew it wasn't Cloud's fault that Cloud didn't have any answers for him.

 

"But I'm _not_ a neurologist…" Cloud stressed a second time. He tilted his head back against the headrest. "Look… Each brain is different, right?"

 

The light shifted to green, and Squall pressed on the gas pedal. "Yeah."

 

The doctor waved his hand. "So then it begs to reason that each brain also behaves differently… Sora has an appointment in a couple of hours. You're going with him. So… you'll be able to find out more then."

 

Squall cut him a glare across the small space that separated them.

 

Cloud's face remained as unreadable and unperturbed as always. "I wish I could tell you more. I do…" He bowed his head, his eyes dropping to his lap. "But I don't want to put any ideas into your head. What if I'm wrong?"

 

"Look… it's—it's no big deal, okay?" It took all Squall had to get that out. He wasn't big on apologies, especially given how stressful his life had grown in the last few hours, but… Cloud deserved one. It wasn't his fault he didn't have any of the answers Squall was searching for, no matter how inconvenient it was.

 

His friend only shrugged.

 

Squall stifled another sigh. Though he'd been the one to run out on Sora when things had grown too complicated, he was grateful Cloud only lived a few houses down from him. It meant he could drop Cloud off, return home, and see his husband again, unpleasant though the reunion might be.

 

He shouldn't have walked out. He should have stayed.

 

The words played themselves over and over in his mind, and just as he was ready to kick himself for being an asshole, Cloud's voice rang out, sharp and alarmed.

 

"Squall! It's Sora!"

 

Squall immediately slammed on the brakes. Combined with the snow and ice, a horrible screeching sound rent the air, and his vehicle slid feet instead of inches. It came to a stop so suddenly that their seatbelts yanked into place, and Squall was certain he had experienced whiplash.

 

"Where?" With shaking fingers, Squall pulled his keys out of the ignition. If he'd so much as hurt another hair on Sora's head—

 

"On the curb. Right there." Cloud pointed out his window.

 

Squall was out of his car without further direction and racing around it to where Cloud had indicated. Sure enough, Sora was resting on the curbside, his knees drawn up and his forehead buried against them. Had he even flinched? The car had come maybe inches from hitting where he sat.

 

"Sora." Squall fought to keep the roughness out of his voice, breathless with adrenaline as he knelt beside him. Snow was soaking through the knee of his pants. "Sora—" His hand fell down on his shoulder, only to get slapped away.

 

"What are you doing out here?" Sora asked him. It was said in perfect monotone. Squall wasn't accustomed to such a thing, not from Sora. "I thought you had to go pick somebody up."

 

"I did. He's in the car. Sora, what are you doing out here?" he reiterated. "You don't have a jacket on, and…"

 

"What do you _care_?" Sora lifted his eyes, and the heat he carried in his question was enough to physically hurt Squall. He could feel it there in his chest, a fiery line that threatened to incinerate him from within. "Two seconds ago, the last thing you wanted to do was help me." He'd been outside long enough that his entire frame, small as it was, was shivering hard.

 

A few weeks ago, Squall would have angrily lashed out, mostly in defense. He didn't deal with confrontation well. He fled it, and when he couldn't, he walled up, made sure that whoever was provoking him stopped soon. But today… today, he didn't have that luxury. It was time to man up. "You're my husband," he murmured. "We need to figure this out together, not apart. I'm… sorry."

 

Once upon a time, Sora would have been touched at this admittance. He would have thrown his arms around Squall and exhaled with relief. He would have said, "It's okay, baby. I'm sorry, too." But there was none of that now. Only a hollowness in Sora's eyes that never should have had to be there.

 

"Just take me to my doctor's appointment, and we'll go from there." Sora rose, and when Squall tried to help him, he fended him off. "Stop. I don't want—or _need_ —your help."

 

"You don't even know the way back to the house—"

 

"It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out how to look at street signs."

 

"But baby, come on, it's cold outside—"

 

Sora burst out laughing, taking Squall by surprise. They stared at one another from opposite sides of the street.

 

"What?"

 

"Isn't that a song?" Sora tilted his head. Was he listening to some inner track playing at his ear? After a moment, he simply shook his head. "I've got it from here. Thanks." Showing Squall the thumbs up, he began a light jog away from him.

 

Cloud looked over once Squall was back in the driver's seat. He didn't say anything, though. That was good. Squall really felt like punching something, and he'd hate for it to be his best friend.


	2. Bittersweet Symphony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Square Enix's Kingdom Hearts, nor do I own the song "Fix You" by Coldplay. 
> 
> ________________________________________
> 
> Author's Notes…
> 
> Sorry about the delay. I got a new job already, so it put me behind a bit! 
> 
> Special thanks to hesteen, as always, for taking time out of her busy schedule to beta for me. : ) 
> 
> ________________________________________

 

**_Buried in the Ice_ **

** Chapter Two **

Bittersweet Symphony

 

Hayden Ansem shook his head and removed his glasses. "Your case is very curious indeed. Based on the test results, your brain is perfectly fine, still healed from the injury you sustained…" The CAT scans of the aforementioned brain at his back, the doctor took a seat at his desk. Before him, Squall fidgeted nervously, lips pressed tightly together. Sora, on the other hand, only looked blank.

 

Squall didn't know what that meant.

 

Of course, Sora didn't _remember_ Dr. Ansem and the steps they'd taken through Sora's recovery, but… shouldn't he have been more… curious as to what he was being told?

 

"For all intents and purposes, your memory isn't intact." The elderly man with the amber eyes folded his hands before him. Outside in the hallway, another doctor was being paged, and for a moment, it held Squall's attention. Anything was better than being in this room right now. Anything was better than dealing with this bit of news.

 

"Okay… So…" Sora leaned back in his chair, his legs sprawled out before him, and crossed his arms. The first flicker of interest had filled his eyes. "What does _that_ mean?"

 

"It means that I am suggesting you see a psychiatrist. It is possible that you have suffered a great amount of psychological trauma from the events of the accident, and so in an attempt to forget them, your brain protected you by wiping your memory clean." Dr. Ansem's deep, rumbling voice didn't falter. Squall's eyes snapped back to him. How could this guy stay so calm in the midst of such news? Sora was perfectly _fine_ , yet his memory was _gone_!

 

Sora opened his mouth, but Squall interrupted him, half-rising from his chair. "Will his memory ever go back to _normal_?" Would Sora ever regain the years of their marriage, of his _life_?

 

"I do not know. I have only a hypothesis. Each brain is different, and Sora's case is very unusual… I am sorry, Mr. Leonhart. I know this is a stressful time."

 

"You have _no idea_ what a—" But Squall, now fully on his feet, cut himself off. Yelling at the doctor wasn't going to solve anything, no matter how appealing that option sounded. Growling in frustration, he stalked out of the room, slamming the office door behind him.

 

 

* * *

 

The temperature inside of the car matched outside. Tiny snowflakes hitting the windshield, gathering and not melting so he had to use his wipers, made him think of how quiet Sora had been since they'd left the hospital. His husband was staring out the passenger window with the papers from the doctor's visit clutched in his fist. It didn't matter how many glances Squall snuck at him; Sora never once looked his way.

 

The roads were icy. The snow hadn't stopped since earlier that morning, and close to five inches had already gathered. The snow plows were doing their best, but with the winter storm, ice was everywhere, and there was only so much gravel and salt could do, either. It made their progress much slower than usual, a mere twenty miles an hour versus sixty on this particular way home. Night had already fallen, and his headlights couldn't penetrate well through this gloomy mess.

 

Since Sora wasn't shivering but hadn't said anything about it, Squall turned on his seat warmer. He'd spent a fortune on this car. Considering that it was rear wheel drive and honestly horrible in the snow, it might not have been worth it. But he enjoyed the little luxuries, like the warmers, the state of the art sound system, the satellite radio and rearview camera, to name a few. On cold nights like this, nobody could turn a seat warmer. And at feeling it, it may prompt Sora to actually _say_ something to him, as he'd no doubt be surprised. If he didn't remember anything, he couldn't very well recollect the gadgets of this car, now could he?

 

It was a frail hope to cling onto, but it was all he had.

 

One that quickly turned futile. Sora gave a little jerk when the warmer kicked in, shifting his butt and blinking in surprise—and said nothing. Didn't bat an eyelash at Squall, didn't so much as sneak a glance at him. Wonderful. It meant that Squall was going to have to break the ice, so to speak, and if there was one thing Squall _wasn't_ good at, it was that. He moved with his emotions at a glacial pace, ever since he was tiny, a born introvert. Normally, this silence would have suited him just fine. He wished that was the case now, but it wasn't. The silence was different than usual, after all. It was stifling, it was so tense.

 

"Look…" He cleared his throat and reached out to turn the radio down. It hadn't been up that much, but he didn't need any distractions. This was going to be hard enough as it was. "I know this is rough for you—"

 

"You don't know the first thing about it," Sora said, so quietly Squall almost didn't catch it, and when he did, ire flared.

 

"I'm your _husband_ , Sora," he said before he could tamp his temper down. These wild, untamed emotions between them were what had caused this chaos in the _first place_. He took a deep breath and held it, counting to ten. The second he was ready, he continued. "That doesn't mean much to you right now. I get that. You've lost memories of everything you've ever known. But this isn't easy for me, either, okay? I lost my husband." His throat was growing uncomfortably tight, and he wished he was anywhere but here. Baring his heart wasn't his forte. "I lost my best friend."

 

It was this last that made Sora look up, his blue eyes softer than Squall had seen them since weeks ago. Back before the—well, back when everything was not necessarily easier, but somewhat better.

 

Knowing he had only moments to make his case, as Sora would withdraw back into his shell any second, Squall tightened his grip on the steering wheel and kept his eyes on the road. "It's hard for both of us, in different ways. More so for you, but you weren't the only one who lost something…" He shook his head. "I…" He licked his lips. "I'm not good at things like this." Exasperation colored the words. "Honestly, it was luck that I even got you to agree to marry me. I'm the last person to—" But he stopped. Sora didn't need the reminder of his failings. "Can we just… talk?" It took him longer than he would have liked to get that last word out.

 

The other man snuggled deeper into his hoodie— _Squall's_ hoodie, actually, the first one Sora had picked from the closet for their trip to the doctor. Squall had chosen not to mention it, lest Sora take it right back off. The awkwardness in that moment would have killed him. It was enough just seeing Sora in it, unconsciously recalling something of Squall, maybe. Squall didn't want to think about it too much. He didn't want to get disappointed anymore than he already was.

 

"Talk about what?"

 

"Well—…" Squall searched for words. Now that the moment was here, he was floundering. Licking his lips, he quickly racked his brain. Nothing was forthcoming. Nothing of substance. Nothing that would _matter_. "Do you remember anything, anything at all?"

 

It was the wrong question to ask.

 

Sora's eyes shuttered and, his jaw setting, he returned his eyes to the passenger window. "No. Just my name. I told you."

 

Silence stretched, more painful than ever. Squall finally understood the saying about tension so thick, a hot knife could cut through it like butter.

 

Then Sora's voice returned, small and uncertain. "I have… this… small memory. The only memory."

 

Squall tried to stamp down the feelings of renewed hope that brought. "Yeah? What is it?"

 

Maybe it was something about Squall, or even about Sora's parents. _Something_ that would help ground him.

 

"It's about a boy with green eyes and silver hair. We were playing in the snow. We were friends."

 

Squall's heart sank. Of course. He couldn't possibly be _that_ lucky. Not with the streak that had gotten its start months ago.

 

Brown spikes bobbed as Sora turned toward him. "Does that person sound familiar to you?  I guess he wouldn't be a boy _anymore_ , though." One of his brows gave a slight furrow.

 

Squall shook his head, a bit puzzled. In truth, Sora had never spoken much about his childhood, claiming he'd lived a mostly lonely life. Occasionally, he'd venture into the city with Squall to reunite with what few friends he'd made over the years, Selphie, Tidus, and Wakka, but those visits were few and far between.

 

"Oh," Sora said glumly. "Never mind, then, I guess."

 

They kept to themselves the rest of the ride home.

 

 

* * *

 

Squall made a pallet for himself on the couch that night. It was the first time he could recall doing so in what had to be months, before even his bad luck streak had begun. Though they'd started fighting before the Accident (as Squall had taken to capitalizing in his mind), they still always made up by the end of the evening, either with cuddling or intense, maybe slightly insane sex. Insane because they were at their wits' end with one another, and it was rough and full of some verbal abuse until it was over.

 

He clutched his pillow as he got under his covers, pretending it was Sora. He'd never admit he actually swapped their pillows. Sora wouldn't notice the difference, he thought as he buried his nose in the quilted down. It didn't smell like anything special. Sora hadn't worn his cologne since the Accident, but Squall had been hoping to catch even the tiniest of whiffs.

 

His sleep, when it at last reached him, was fitful.

 

 

* * *

 

 ** _Hey, honey, it's your mom! I haven't heard from you in a couple of days, so I just thought I'd check in on you. I hope you're okay. Squall promised me he was taking the best care of you, but your dad and I are thinking about coming to visit_** —

 

Squall deleted the message. Sora was in the shower, and the last thing Squall needed to deal with was that. He'd bring up Sora's family if Sora broached the subject first, and not a moment sooner.

 

 ** _Message deleted_** , the answering machine informed him on the counter of the kitchen. **_Next message…_** Squall's brow rose as nothing but static and muffled voices played over the feed. He was just about to delete this message, too, only to stop as a cheerful man started speaking. **_Oh, shit! My butt called you, Sora! Sorry, bro!_** It was Tidus. **_I know you said you didn't really feel like talking to anybody, soooo… sorry 'bout that! Peace_**!

 

**_End of new messages_. **

Nothing super important, at least.

 

Squall surveyed the counter. He'd finished organizing the mail, had shredded the shit they hadn't needed, and even played through the answering machine, which he next to never did. That was Sora's thing. Squall didn't get a whole lot of phone calls, and he liked it that way. The problem was that now there was nothing left to do. This had been the last part of the house that needed cleaning.

 

He sighed and rubbed just above his scar. It was starting to itch, and the stitches weren't due to be taken out for some time yet.

 

Sora's friends and family weren't going to be held off forever. Eventually, they'd start to be insistent in trying to get a hold of him. Sora was someone who never went more than three days without talking to those closest to him, and that was in rare cases. Squall just had no idea how he was going to tell them that Sora had repressed his memory. All he could do at the moment, if they pressed, was inform them of Sora's reluctance to see any visitors. Aerith would pass the word along, in her own way, and in the right way. Squall had to trust in that. He had nothing else, and if the news came from him, it would only seem like he was being particularly grumpy.

 

A rustle of clothing caught his attention, and he turned to see Sora hesitantly entering the kitchen, in plaid sleeping pants and the hoodie he'd unknowingly borrowed the afternoon before. His eyes flitted from Squall to the fresh coffee pot. He puttered that way, keeping a wide distance between them. Squall gave him his space, no matter how much it felt like gouging a hole through his heart to do so.

 

 _This is why you never wanted a serious relationship_ , an insidious little voice whispered to him in his mind, the one that had kept him a social recluse most of his life. _See what happens? You go and give yourself completely to somebody, and then **this** shit happens_.

 

Squall smiled faintly to himself. If Rinoa could hear his thoughts right now, she'd slap him over the back of the head and chew him out good. Then she'd cross her arms and spin on her heel, her nose held imperiously in the air. No one else could make Squall feel guilty quite like she did, and she wouldn't face him again until he'd tentatively offered an apology. Her frown would slip into a smile, and she'd hold open her arms.

 

He missed her fiercely most days. The world had seen fit to take her from him, too. She was married to Seifer now, a man Squall had never particularly gotten along with, and they lived several states away. Seifer was a part of the military, so he got re-stationed a lot. It ground at Squall to have Rinoa so far away, but that was where Sora had always come in.

 

Sora found the mugs easily enough, pouring himself a steaming cup of coffee. His hands went eagerly around the warmed mug, and he held it up to his nose, inhaling deep. A pleased smile crossed his features. "This smells _amazing_." A blush touched the tips of his ears a moment later. "I hope you don't mind if I take some."

 

"Of course not." Squall swiped up the papers that needed to be shredded. "I'm going upstairs to my study. The sugar's there—" he pointed "—and I got a new thing of fat free milk for you this morning."

 

"Fat free?"

 

"Yeah." Squall held open their stainless steel refrigerator to demonstrate. "Right here."

 

"I drink _fat free_?" Sora looked down at himself. "I can't weigh more than 125 pounds!"

 

A chuckle left Squall, surprising both of them. It made Sora warm inside. He hadn't known Squall could sound so _nice_ , and it reminded him of Aerith telling him that Squall was really nothing more than a great, big teddy bear inside. So as Squall shut the fridge with a last regretful glance in his direction, Sora felt bravery mount inside of him.

 

Sure, Squall was a complete and _total_ stranger at the moment, but it didn't have to stay that way… Besides, Squall was his only ticket to finding anything out right now. What would be the point in isolating him? Squall was suffering, too… He'd said so himself. It wasn't in Sora's nature to be cold and distant forever, no matter how frightened he was.

 

"Squall!" he blurted.

 

Squall's footsteps stopped in the hallway. He walked backwards, then stuck his head in the kitchen. "Yeah…?" Wariness reflected in his eyes.

 

"I'm—I mean—" Sora wet his lips. God, this was awkward. He wrapped his arms around himself, the hoodie nice and comfortable. It was a bit too big by three sizes, and he half-suspected it was Squall's. "...How was I, um…" He cleared his throat. Why was this so _hard_? "What was I behaving like… after the accident… before… this…?" He swept a hand in front of himself in case Squall didn't get quite what he was indicating.

 

The rumbling noise of a snow plow truck going by filled the air for several moments as Squall considered him. If the local weather report could be trusted, it wasn't going to stop snowing until tomorrow. Sora didn't mind that so much. He hadn't been out in it very long, but he had a feeling he loved the snow.

 

"Ah…" Squall tilted his head back, his eyes slipping closed. "I don't know. Unresponsive most of the time? Moody? Sullen?" He shook his head, his shaggy chocolate brown hair swinging with the movement. "You spent a lot of time staring out the window, or in bed, sleeping…"

 

Sora shifted from one foot to the other. That wasn't exactly encouraging, but it _did_ support Dr. Ansem's hypothesis about his sudden memory loss.

 

He didn't know how to take this. Better yet, he didn't even know what to do with himself. What did he _do_ all day, when he was perfectly normal, his memory functioning without this hiccup? Did he have a job? Did he go to school? Squall had mentioned his parents, so that meant they were alive, that he had two. Were they married, divorced…? Did he have any brothers or sisters? There was _so much_ he didn't know, and if he focused too much on it, the world started to spin.

 

Yet somehow, through that spinning, Squall seemed so stationary, a stone foundation as the rest of his surroundings slipped beyond his control.

 

"Will you sit with me at the table?" he blurted.

 

Squall blinked. "Sit—?"

 

"Yeah, at the table!" Sora bobbed his head up and down, and then, before Squall could tell him no, he reached out, grabbing his wrist and dragging him over to the tiny kitchen island. He shoved Squall down on a stool, helping himself to one shortly after. There was an amused spark in Squall's eyes now. He found it a little encouraging.

 

"There's just… so much I don't know," Sora explained. He spread his hands. He was going to continue, but he paused for a moment, surveying the kitchen. "This place is really nice, you know?" Sunflower yellow paint on the walls, white cabinets, a gas stovetop, a confectioner's oven in the wall with a microwave on top. The stainless steel, tall, two-doored refrigerator, with a pull-out freezer. A desk that wrapped around the corner, which held a phone, an answering machine, and several piles of mail on top. Beneath that in a small pocket of space was a portable heater.

 

"You picked out the paint."

 

Sora swung his gaze back to Squall's, wrinkling his nose. " _I_ did?"

 

"Yup."

 

"I don't have taste, I guess," he said, and then the two shared a chuckle. It made warmth blossom in Sora's heart with fuzzy tingles, unfamiliar and nice both.

 

Squall reached across the table where one of Sora's fists was loosely balled. He stopped, however, his fingertips hovering there, just above Sora's knuckles. Sora's breath caught in his throat. Though he knew it wasn't possible, he could feel prickles of electricity emanating from Squall's palm, making his hairs stand on end.

 

Swallowing, the taller man withdrew his hand. "I—sorry." He cleared his throat and looked at the table.

 

The breath Sora released was slow, unsteady. "It's—it's okay." It wasn't, really, but it wasn't Squall's fault. He was just as lost as Sora in this.

 

An all too easily recognizable silence crept into the room, reminding them both that they weren't comfortable with each other despite their moment of laughter.

 

"Are you hungry?" Squall rose without waiting for an answer. "I'll make you some lunch."

 

"Well, wait, but—" Sora paused, one hand raised after him. He stared at it. It had certainly done that on its own. Then he shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut, and focused his thoughts. Squall was standing there expectantly, a hip cocked, an eyebrow up. Sora flushed. "I just… I thought maybe we could talk about… um… you know… stuff…"

 

Squall knew what he was getting at, and had they been in a better place, he wouldn't have thought twice about jerking Sora around. But the last twenty-four hours had been rough on him. "Stuff?" He rubbed at the corner of his mouth with his thumb. It wouldn't hurt to make him squirm.

 

The smaller man shrunk back at that. His lower lip jutted out. Squall doubted Sora even realized he was pouting, as whenever he did, he would immediately stop and look grumpy at this lapse into childhood. "You know… _stuff_ …"

 

"Mmm, no, I'm afraid I don't." Squall leaned against the nearest counter, as casual a move as he could make it. In reality, he'd been tense since Sora had woken up memory-less, but he couldn't let Sora catch onto that. It was already too suffocating with this tension running rampant as it were. "You're gonna have to be a little more specific."

 

Sora's pout dissolved into a scowl. "Stuff! You know—about—me… you…" His voice fell meek as he dropped his eyes. "Us…" This last whisper was barely audible. Squall's heart skipped, and he pushed away from the counter to go over to the cabinets.

 

"I can talk about… stuff… while I'm cooking," Squall informed him, perhaps a little gruffly. He got embarrassed easily. It was because Sora had this way of completely ripping down his defenses, and Squall was afraid he'd never get used to it. A normal man might not think that was anything to fear, but Squall begged to differ. His fear of vulnerability was what had caused problems between them in the first place.

 

"Okay…" Sora shifted on his stool. "What are you going to make?"

 

"Your favorite meal." Squall flashed him a brief grin. It made the muscles of his mouth ache. A worthy exchange to see Sora's eyes light up a little at it, he decided.

 

"What's my favorite meal?" The question was all excited curiosity. Sora was probably desperate to find out some nugget of information about his life, regardless of how small it was.

 

"You'll see." Keeping things vague was Squall's specialty. It was also a talent that he showed in his writing and had made him a best-selling author. Suspense was in his nature.

 

He began preparing dinner, pulling seasonings out of the cabinet, ingredients he needed from the pantry and refrigerator, setting them on the stove as he did so and getting out a stoneware slab. Sora started rounding off questions after a few minutes of awkwardness, resting his chin on his raised fists.

 

"Who are my parents?"

 

"Shiozu Ventus and Yukiru."

 

"Okay… how old are they? Are they still married? Divorced? What?"

 

Squall's lips lifted in a smile he didn't realize he was giving. "They're still happily married. They just celebrated their thirty-fifth anniversary. You were a late comer."

 

Relief filtered through Sora at that. He hadn't even known he was worried about his parents that badly, whether they were alive, and if they were still together. "Do they fight?"

 

"Yukiru would argue that they have their moments, but Ventus is very easy-going. He thinks the world of her." Squall couldn't believe such sappy stuff was falling from his lips. A glance at Sora revealed that his husband needed it. He'd deal with it for now. The guy looked practically starved for information, unconsciously leaning forward, eyes intently trained on the man by the stove top. "He thinks the world of you, too. You guys are very close." Squall shrugged one shoulder. "All of you."

 

"Do I have any siblings?"

 

"Roxas." Squall hesitated.

 

"What?"

 

"Your relationship is kind of off again, on again."

 

"We don't get along?"

 

Squall shook his head. "No, you do, it's just… He's… He can be difficult. You two have your differences sometimes. But it's nothing you've never made it through." He prepared the pizza crust, spreading sauce on it. He would have preferred homemade dough, but that would take hours. Store bought would have to do for now.

 

"So is he older or younger?"

 

"Three minutes younger."

 

Sora started at that. "Whoa, wait—are you saying he's my _twin_?"

 

A chuckle gathering in his throat, Squall nodded. Sora could be very… cute. It was what had drawn him to Sora. It was like the guy held some sort of light within him, and Squall couldn't help but be drawn to it. Corny as hell, but there it was.

 

"Wow… weird." Sora sat back. "But kinda cool, I guess."

 

Squall busied himself with the toppings of the pizza.

 

"All right," Sora pressed after he'd shaken himself from his reverie. "So… how did we, uh… we…" The several false starts made Squall bite his lip to keep back another laugh. He knew what Sora was about to ask, so he wasn't surprised when Sora squeaked out, "How did we meet?"

 

"It was pretty simple, actually." Squall liked it when things happened simply. Perhaps that was why he was so attached to the other man. "You showed up at one of my book signings. I had just gotten back from a tour, and took on this one last minute."

 

"You're _published_?" Sora gasped.

 

"Yeah. You could barely suppress your excitement in the line." Squall shook his head at the memory. "And when you finally reached my table, you about knocked me and all the books on it over. Then you asked me out. It was the first thing you said."

 

Mortified, Sora put his face in his hands and slumped against the island.

 

Squall couldn't stop anther grin. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this amused about anything. Maybe the early days of their marriage?

 

"Oh, my God…" Sora shook his head against his hands. "What did you say?"

 

"That I'd think about it," Squall said mildly.

 

Sora's humiliation for an event he couldn't even remember vanished. Indignity rapidly took its place, and he dropped his hands. "Really?! You just really left me _hanging_ like that?!"

 

"I hadn't been on a date in a few years. And I'd never dated seriously, either. I was… hesitant."

 

Frowning, Sora considered the other man. He supposed he could see that, given Squall's disposition so far. "Well, if you'd never dated seriously, why hesitate so much?"

 

"Because something about you…" Squall let out a long sigh. "Well… it scared me, how promising it was."

 

Sora's answering smile was faint, as tentative as everything else had been. But it spoke volumes to Squall, and he returned it with a half pull at his own lips. Maybe things would be okay, in the end. It would take work, but he could get them back to where they were. Surely.

 

 

* * *

 

The next hour passed with more conversation than Squall had divulged in quite some time. He was used to letting Sora prattle at him while he offered up an opinion every now and then. This was strange, but at the same time, it was okay. Because what about this scenario hadn't been just as strange, if not stranger?

 

He told Sora many things. That Sora was studying at the local university, struggling to get his creative writing degree. Squall supported both of them for the time being, content to do so, as he made more than enough money for the task. He didn't spend a lot of time on the details of their relationship, as Sora hadn't showed any further interest on the subject.

 

Tidus, Selphie, and Wakka were brought up, and Sora clutched onto these tidbits of info like they were a lifeline. Squall didn't have as much knowledge about his friends, but for Sora's sake, he tried. Selphie was a typist, while Wakka and Tidus played for their state's pro blitzball team. The four of them weren't able to get together very often. Selphie lived two cities away, and the men were busy with practice or games. Sora himself had a degree to contend with, though for this semester, he'd been taken out due to his brain and other injuries. 

 

By that time, the pizza was done, and as Squall set a plate of three pieces in front of Sora, his husband wrinkled his nose.

 

"What is _that_?"

 

"Sour kraut." Squall helped himself to his own share. "You love it, don't worry."

 

Looking doubtful, Sora brought a slice close to his mouth to nibble. He blew on it first, and was quiet for several seconds as he chewed. His eyes lit up again shortly afterward, and he started shoveling food in.

 

Squall stared at him. "You could have told me if you were that hungry."

 

Sora blushed sheepishly, and had the grace to wait until he'd swallowed to speak. "I didn't realize I was."

 

The lunch was nice, reminding Squall of happier days passed. A twinge of longing tugged at his heart. He had a feeling this easy camaraderie between them wasn't destined to last.

 

 

* * *

 

_-And the tears come streaming down your face when you lose something you can't replace. When you love someone, but it goes to waste. Could it be worse? Lights will guide you home and ignite your bones, and I will try to fix you...-_

Squall paused in the entryway to the living room. Sora was standing in front of the stereo, a Coldplay album popped open in his hand, his other fingers still on the volume switch. Tears dotted his lashes as the music spread through the room like a symphony, the lyrics of the song bittersweet. Squall had never cared for that particular band, but it was one of Sora's favorites.

As he watched, the lithe man lowered himself to the plush carpet spread over the hardwood, his eyes intent on the stereo now above him.

 

Then, slowly, to Squall's astonishment, Sora's lips started to move with the lyrics. At first, Squall wasn't sure if he was trying to mouth along with them just because he wanted to, or because he actually knew the words. His question was answered in the next second as Sora's voice drifted from him, soft, as high as the singer's.

"And high up above or down below, when you're too in love to let it go. But if you never try, you'll never know just what you're worth. Lights will guide you home, and ignite your bones, and I will try to fix you…"

 

Squall stood frozen to the spot. Had he ever heard Sora sing? He searched through his memory, desperate not to make a sound as he did so. He didn't want Sora to stop. Even though Sora was crying openly now, quavering over the chorus. In the next moment, the interlude started, picking up the pace of the song and giving him a moment to let out a hiccupping sob.

 

It took all Squall had not to go to him. He'd never been able to stand it when Sora cried. But if he did so now, if he took Sora into his arms, he knew with an unhindered certainty that Sora would push him away. That he'd wipe those cheeks, angrily shut off the stereo, and rush from the room. Though it was no doubt hurting him, Squall wanted to give Sora that raw moment of privacy.

 

He knew he should walk away, if that was the case. But he couldn't. He was mesmerized. As a person who hated musicals, who could barely sit through someone singing in the car, this was unlike him, but that was Sora. Always having him come to the realization that he enjoyed more things than he realized.

 

"Tears stream down your face when you lose something you cannot replace, tears stream down your face and I… Tears stream down your face, I promise you I will learn from my mistakes… Tears stream down your face, and I…" Sora choked off, shaking his head. It was clear by his expression that he didn't know how he remembered something so simple as a song while the rest of his memory was still that blank slate.

 

He sniffled, swiping at his eyes with the cuff of Squall's hoodie. "Lights will guide you home… and ignite your bones…"

 

Squall's lips moved silently with him as they finished the song.

 

_And I will try to fix you._


	3. Buried in the Ice

 

There were periods in his life where everything made sense. And then a moment would come along and so completely shatter that certainty that there was nothing left to do but pick up the pieces and try not to get cut.

 

Ever since the Accident, Squall had done his best to be by Sora's side. When he'd said that Sora had been despondent, the truth of the matter was that didn't even come close to what it had _really_ been like. There were days where he wouldn't look at Squall, and Squall had thought those were the worst. Then, of course, Sora had woken up without a memory of anything but his own name—his _previous_ name.

 

Absolutely nothing… watching Sora's head smash against the front of his windshield as his tires lost traction and his car slid forward into that tree… holding his hand tight in the hospital and hoping to whatever god out there who was listening that Sora would open his eyes again… the subsequent days where Sora stared hollowly out the bedroom window, curled up on the sill, wrapped up in a blanket and lost in his thoughts, and nothing Squall could say would reach him…

 

Well, absolutely none of that compared to the stab his chest had taken when Sora didn't know who he was.

 

Nothing.

 

"…along?" Sora asked him around a mouthful of scrambled eggs. It had been three days. Three days of sleeping on the couch and struggling with the fact that he couldn't touch Sora without the other man flinching away.

 

Squall tore his gaze up from his cold coffee. "I'm sorry, what?"

 

"Along." Sora gestured between them. He'd been doing that a lot lately. Like Squall wasn't familiar with the term 'us' or 'we.' "Did we?"

 

"Oh. Well…" Squall licked his lips, uncertainty slithering through him. While this was a chance to essentially rewrite the past and start over, what would happen _when_ Sora's memories—he firmly did not believe in ifs in this matter—returned to him? He'd be furious that Squall had lied, had sugar-coated the difficulties of their marriage. "Most days?"

 

"'Most days'?" Surprisingly, Sora laughed. He'd been doing that a lot more often lately, though not quite as much as he'd used to. That was all right. Anything was better than that yawning chasm of silence between them.

 

"Yeah, most—" He stopped as Sora's head suddenly lolled forward, his eyes going back in his head. Concern was a hot razor's edge through him, and he leapt to his feet, going around the island table to grip Sora's shoulders and touch his cheek. "Sora? Sora!"

 

Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, God. He didn't know what to do!

 

The younger man remained unresponsive, eyelids at half-mast, what blue that was showing completely void of any sign of life. He was breathing, albeit shallowly, but nothing Squall did could rouse him. He shook Sora a little bit, not too hard, just by the shoulders, because he was afraid that Sora's brain injury still hadn't completely healed itself. In the end, it didn't matter. Sora remained in that same state of lifelessness, if you could be breathing and still be lifeless.

 

He was missing something. A spark, _something_.

 

Squall fumbled for the phone, and since it was the landline, he had no idea what Cloud's number was, and that was the first that had gone through his head. But at the same time he remembered that not only was Cloud not a neurosurgeon, calling 911 would be safest.

 

He had just punched in the first two numbers when Sora made a soft noise. Immediately, he chucked the phone to the side and knelt in front of his husband, cupping his cheeks, searching his eyes. They were a deeper blue again, a rosy hue covered the line of his cheeks.

 

"Hey," he mumbled sleepily. "Why do you look so worried?"

 

Oh, shit. Oh, fuck.

 

Squall pulled Sora into his arms, holding onto him tightly, his nose buried right in those soft spikes. It only occurred to him afterward that Sora was likely uncomfortable, but he didn't care, not right at that moment. It was instinctive to do this, to keep Sora safe in his arms, protected from the evils and dangers of the world. He had never felt this way about anything before in his life. It was terrifying, had _been_ terrifying since the moment he had met Sora, as he'd told him days ago.

 

But it was an irresistible pull nonetheless.

 

"Squall…?" Slowly, Sora began to sound more like himself, 'himself' being the self since he'd lost his memories. "What's wrong?" Tension hummed in his small frame. There was muscle in most places, but Sora would always have an undeniable slightness to him that anyone would be hard-pressed to ignore.

 

"You just—you blanked… I—shit, Sora, I didn't know what to _do_ …"

 

"Squall… you're shaking…" Warm palms touched his back, right over his shoulder blades.

 

 _I'm shaking?_ Squall shook his head against Sora's hair. His arms had grown a mind of their own, not keen on letting Sora go anytime soon. But he made himself pull back, if only so he could push Sora's bangs out of his eyes, checking his temperature, fingers pressed to a forehead that wasn't any warmer than usual.

 

Sora bit his lip. "Squall." He reached up, taking Squall's hand in his own. "I'm _okay_. I'm okay, I promise."

 

His throat tight, Squall let him have his hand. Sora would be the first to drop the hold, anyway. He could enjoy the touches while they lasted. Words pressed at his throat, burning to get out. Sora watched him patiently, the sunlight that filtered in through the kitchen window making his hair look more red than brown. It gave his features a sweet innocence, a fact which was more pronounced now than ever, due to his predicament.

 

"Not to sound cliché or anything, but you look like you've seen a ghost." A smile tugged at the corner of Sora's mouth. He squeezed Squall's fingers. When Squall continued to say nothing, his eyes shadowed a little. "Hey…" He tilted his head. "Talk to me?"

 

_glassshatteringbloodeverywherescreechofrubber **sorasorano**_

 

"Hey—Squall?"

 

"I think we should call your doctor," he said shortly. Sora blinked as Squall grabbed the phone off the counter where it had slid and skidded over papers that still needed shredding. "Just to let him know."

 

"What?!" Sora protested. "Squall, nothing _happened_!"

 

"You didn't see yourself!"

 

"I didn't have to! I'm fine! I just—I felt a little woozy suddenly, that's all!"

 

 _You looked dead,_ Squall thought frantically. He thumbed through the caller ID of the house phone, trying to find the right number for the hospital.

 

"Squall, come _on_!" His stool skidded across the hardwood as Sora got off it, grabbing at Squall's elbow. "Dude! Stop!"

 

"I'm not going to stop!" Squall was in his face, one hand thrust out to the side, the other holding the phone to his chest. His grip on it was so tight, the plastic creaked. "You almost _died_ , Sora! Do you get that? Do you hear me?"

 

Sora stumbled back a step, his eyes widening. "You're overreacting. I just blanked out for a second—"

 

"YOU ALMOST DIED!" Squall roared at him.

 

"WILL YOU STOP FREAKING OUT ON ME!" Sora screamed back. "I CAN'T TAKE THIS RIGHT NOW!" His voice went up to an awkward, squeaky pitch to match the tears in his eyes, and Sora sniffled. He kept moving backwards until he hit the counter behind him. "Dude! Chill, okay?!"

 

Growling, Squall stalked out of the kitchen. It was taking all he had not to smash the phone into the wall.

 

 

* * *

 

 _Don't be such a sissy_ , Sora told himself as he sniffled. He hastily wiped his eyes, then looked listlessly over his plate of food, now probably gone cold. And it was mostly untouched, too. Such a waste.

 

Though he hadn't wanted to tell Squall about it, worry hadn't taken root only in the other man's heart. He hadn't just 'blanked out,' as they'd both referred to it. He'd gone someplace deep inside of himself. And in that someplace, he'd seen it again. The snow, the boy with the green eyes and silver hair. Except this time, he seemed to be calling him from somewhere far away.

 

_Sora… can you hear me…? Sora…_

 

It was weird, not to mention concerning. Losing your memory, only to zone out and see something about someone that your supposed husband hadn't a clue to was definitely _not_ a good sign.

 

He shook it free for the time being, knowing he had other pressing matters to attend to, like Squall bailing on him a second ago. Gathering his resolve, he went on a hunt for the other man, finally finding him upstairs in his study, his hands braced on either side of the window of that room. The place was tidy, well-kept, with an old set of comic books in one corner, everything else occupied by books, books, and more books.

 

Some, Sora noticed, were Squall's works. Others ranged from looking ancient, as if he'd inherited them, to brand new, the spines not broken in any place except on a spare few. The only space left in the room was for his giant mahogany desk, and a laptop was closed on top of it, along with scattered papers full of red marks and a solitary picture frame.

 

It was this last that drew Sora, and he picked it up gingerly. It had such a simple frame, but in it was a world he couldn't reach, no matter how hard he tried. He was outside with Squall somewhere, autumn leaves all around them, Squall with his hands at Sora's waist from behind, his brow dark in its furrow. Sora, on the other hand, looked completely carefree.

 

He set it down with a light thump against the desk. "Look, um… I admit that I'm not exactly an expert in the marriage field at the moment… but I'm _pretty sure_ you're not supposed to just—I don't know— _run away_ whenever a prime moment presents itself."

 

Pettily, he'd been hoping the 'run away' bit would goad Squall into looking at him. Instead, the other man kept his back to him, the muscles in it ridged beneath his simple cotton shirt. Sora had to admit to himself, if no one else, that it looked good on him. Clinging to all the right places, accentuating his trim waist, the definition in his biceps. And just the acknowledgment of _that_ —that he was ogling Squall—was enough to make his head spin.

 

Okay. So… the verdict…? He definitely liked men.

 

It was a strange, bubbly sensation inside of him, like he was half-elated, half-frightened. But what did it matter at the end of the day? He had no memories of discrimination to haunt him, and Squall, though definitely needing work with communication, was at least a dedicated spouse.

 

"Squall, just look at me?"

 

Silence reigned, ever present, ever slowly killing them. The few feet that separated them seemed wider than ever, until Sora was forced to cross it. His hands hovered above Squall's waist as he debated taking the dive by touching him, maybe even _holding_ him. Would Squall want it? How could he _not_ want it? For the last handful of days, he'd had to visibly restrain himself from touching Sora.

 

A doorbell rang, jerking Sora guiltily away from his alleged husband, his attention drawn to the doorway of the study.

 

"Who's that?"

 

"Go see."

 

Sora yanked his head back around to Squall. The two words had been uttered so… _forlornly_ almost, but not quite. Sora didn't know how to explain it. All he knew was that he didn't like it, didn't like Squall sounding like that, as though darkness coated his thoughts and had slid over his words like sludge. Whatever was going on in his head clearly wasn't pleasant.

 

Somewhere deep within him, he got the notion that if he put his arms around Squall right now, he would be banishing some of that darkness.

 

The doorbell rang again.

 

And again and again.

 

Exasperated, Sora left Squall to head back downstairs. He wasn't sure what he was going to do if he was faced with someone who knew him and not the other way around. But he couldn't just _not_ answer. His nerves were jangling, demanding that he get to the front door, get to the front door _now_ , and it was so urgent that he didn't think twice about it.

 

He pulled open the door, and his heart stopped for all of two seconds.

 

A young man, around his age, stood before him. His silver hair was pulled into a loose ponytail, high up on his head, with bangs framing the sides of his face. At Sora's appearance, he took off a pair of Aviators, revealing the most startling green eyes, the color of grass in the springtime. He was tall, a little shorter than Squall but still towering over Sora, and his body was slender and muscular both, like a great cat, muscles poised beneath elegant fur, ready to spring at any moment, each step graceful.

 

"Hey," the guy said. "It's been a while, Sora."

 

"Um—who—?"

 

"Squall's not around is he?" The man stuck his head into the doorway, his hands tucked into his back pockets. His eyes casually surveyed the area, and, seemingly determining it clear of Sora's aforementioned husband, he gripped Sora's wrist and pulled him outside.

 

The first thing Sora noticed was that his fingers were like ice.

 

The second?

 

He'd never felt more _alive_.

 

Not that he had a lot to go off of. His memory didn't extend beyond this week. But shivers darted up and down his spine, warming the pit of his belly, and he was helpless but to let the stranger drag him down the front walkway of the house. Sora only barely had time to shut it behind him. Then they were walking through the drifting snow flurries, and Sora didn't even mind that he wasn't wearing a jacket.

 

It only occurred to him later that Squall's study overlooked the front lawn.

 

"Where are you taking me? Who are you?"

 

"My name is Riku. And as for your first question, don't worry. You trust me, right?"

 

"Yeah…" Sora found himself whispering.

 

Here he was: the one person Sora remembered amidst the whiteout that had shrouded his mind. And, strangely enough, his voice matched the one that had echoed in his mind just a half hour past in the kitchen. It almost scared him, but it couldn't, not while Riku's hand was wrapped around his. Nothing could penetrate that feeling—that warm _certainty_.

 

But Squall was watching them, and Sora's sense of what was right and wrong warred with him. He didn't _remember_ his marriage to Squall, yet that didn't mean they weren't married. "I can't—" Sora started to take his hand back, only for it to be gripped more securely by Riku. "I'm _married_."

 

Riku stepped close, and then the strangest thing happened when Sora met his eyes.

 

Nothing else mattered anymore.

 

Elation wafted through him, as fluffy as the snowflakes landing on his cheeks and catching in his hair.

 

"You good?" Riku asked.

 

"Yeah," Sora breathed.

 

"Good." Without releasing Sora, Riku pulled out a jangling key ring and pointed a remote at the shiny black Mercedes parked on the curb. Despite all the salt that covered the roads, his car wasn't even that dirty. "Let's go." He held open the passenger door for him. "There's something I need to show you."

 

Something was gripping hold of Sora, forbidding him from going. He shook his head quickly, stepping away, his fingertips barely touching Riku's as he retracted his hand. "I can't. I really can't."

 

"Why?"

 

"Because I—" Sora trailed off as Riku ducked his head so they were on the same eye level. A small noise escaped him, to which Riku smiled, and the other man reached up, playing idly with one of his spikes.

 

"Your morals are really going to be my downfall one day, Sora."

 

"Mmmm?" He was floating on cotton. He was filled with it.

 

"Get in the car."

 

"Okay," he mumbled, his body complying automatically. Riku shut the door for him and in seconds was climbing in on the driver's side. With a purr of the engine, they were off, and Sora found his eyes going up, as if drawn by magnets, to the window of Squall's study. It was dark, no silhouette there that he could make out.

 

He wasn't sure why that bothered him when everything was so nice right then.

 

 

* * *

 

"Where have you _been_?!"

 

Sora giggled, slumping against the kitchen counter as he toed off his snow boots. He didn't recognize them, and they felt new, stiff. "What do you mean?"

 

"Sora, it's—fuck, it's almost midnight!" Squall strode forward, gripping Sora's arm and tugging him close. Anger warred with concern on his face. "I've been searching all over town for you! And you don't have a goddamn phone—"

 

Sora pushed him off. All this drama was interfering with the fun he'd been having. "I haven't been gone _that_ long, don't exaggerate." He went to move, only to stumble into the refrigerator, which unleashed another giggle. "Oh, shit."

 

"Are you _drunk_?"

 

"No!" He wasn't. Not on liquor, anyway. He wasn't sure _what_ he was quite so high on, but whatever it was, it was nice, and Riku had been responsible for it. He licked his lips, still tasting the remnants of what he'd been given. Only, when he tried to curl his thoughts around it and focus on what it had been, he couldn't. There was a hole there in his mind. He shrugged it off. "Help me get to bed."

 

"Sora, what the hell—"

 

"DUDE! Just help me get to bed! You're ruining everything." Squall's voice was like a hammer knocking at the inside of his skull, and if he didn't stop that shit soon, Sora was uncertain of _what_ he would do. He just knew it wouldn't be pretty.

 

Squall's fingers grasped his chin, and Sora growled, putting his hands on Squall's chest and _shoving_. The result was unexpected. What should have only been a couple of steps away resulted in Squall's back slamming into the counter behind him in a matter of maybe three seconds. Sora's thoughts were too muzzy to focus on that random burst of strength, and he stalked away from his husband, ready to curl into bed and _keep_ thinking good thoughts.

 

From his place against the counter, Squall panted for breath. His eyebrow twitched. What the _hell_? His back hurt enough in that moment that he was sure he'd have to pay a visit to the chiropractor in a few days. How had Sora gotten that strong? Or was it from adrenaline? The latter didn't make any sense, mostly because Sora could barely walk straight, but then again, none of this did.

 

He followed after his husband, catching up with him with a slight hobble. Pain was radiating up his spine. His collision against the counter had been enough to clack his teeth together. "Sora. Please. I'm tired of fighting. I—I promise not to get angry if you just _talk_ to me."

 

Harrumphing, Sora whirled to him, crossing his arms over his chest. A second later, he swayed where he stood. For all intents and purposes, he didn't even notice. "I'm an adult, Squall. I can go where I want. Do what I want."

 

Squall bit back his first response, reminding himself that he'd _just_ got done saying he was tired of fighting. "Yes, but we're _married_ , Sora. I realize I'm a—" _no, don't drop the f bomb_ "—stranger to you…" He took a deep breath. "But the fact remains that we are _married_." He came close, since Sora didn't seem to be going anywhere, but he did it carefully. He was wary of that strength Sora had displayed. "Sora. Look at me."

 

The smaller man was pouting. "I don't want to. I just want to have fun. I was having so much fun. I—" He trailed off, placing his palm to his forehead. "Squall…" he murmured. His knees buckled, and Squall rushed to grab him, ignoring the protest from his spine.

 

"Sora! Are you okay?" Squall cradled him against his chest, cupping his cheek and soothing his fingers over it. Such tenderness didn't come naturally to him, but for Sora, he'd learned how to show many things in the course of their marriage. Sora suffered if he couldn't get any attention or affection.

 

"…time is it…?" Sora mumbled. His eyes slipped closed.

 

Squall exhaled, easing them to the floor. "Midnight."

 

"Not possible," the other man breathed. "It's morning… was just eating scrambled eggs…"

 

Fresh concern pinged through Squall. He opened his mouth, prepared to grill Sora on that, but a glance down revealed that Sora was snoring softly in his arms. He staggered to his feet. Normally, Sora's weight was nothing, and that still would have been the case if the smaller man hadn't fucked up his back. Resolving to put it behind him for the time being, Squall carried Sora to their bedroom.

 

This wasn't good. This _couldn't_ be good.

 

He'd been upstairs in his study. When Sora had gone to check the front door, he'd decided to zip through his e-mails real quick. The front door had closed, silence had passed. Squall had called Sora's name. Intuition had prickled, and a quick examination had revealed that Sora had vanished.

 

Squall had about lost his shit after that. He'd spent hours scouring the neighborhood, the city, checking all of Sora's old haunts. He hadn't taken his damn phone, and calls to their friends and his parents hadn't turned up any information, either. He couldn't file a missing person's report. He couldn't do _anything_. Nothing but wait.

 

And now here Sora was, in his arms, acting strange, and unable to recall the events of the day. Was it another memory lapse? If so, he needed to call Dr. Ansem first thing in the morning. Strangely, something told him it wasn't that, that the issue ran deeper, and he didn't know _why_ , because that was insane reasoning.

 

Sora's sleeping face held no answers for him.


	4. Whisper in My Ear

 

_In life, you do what you can._

 

Everything was so warm.

 

Sora was laughing, snow falling all around him, a trapper on his head and his gloved hands wrapped around sticky snow. In Radiant Garden, it was more common for dusting, but not this storm. And he had no qualms about tossing it across the yard, splattering Squall right in the face with it.

 

"Hey!" Squall protested. "Rrrrgh—Sora, there was _ice_ in that!"

 

"So?" Sora stuck out his tongue at his boyfriend, only to promptly duck as Squall returned fire.

 

_Sometimes happiness comes naturally._

"Hah! Missed me!" Sora jumped up, one fist in the air, mostly to taunt the other man. Then three snowballs whipped at him one after the other, and he gave an admittedly girly shriek as he leapt out of the way. He managed to avoid the first two. The third caught him squarely on the side of his neck, and then he really shrieked.

 

"Hrmph." While most people Sora knew would have gloated, Squall merely crossed his arms, an eyebrow raised and an unimpressed look on his features, like he could have scored a better hit if he tried harder.

 

Sora dusted the snow off him. "You're a jerk!"

 

"You hit me first." Now Squall's face showed the first signs of a smile. It was nice when he did that, because it lit up his eyes, turning them from gloomy gray to almost a light blue.

 

_And other times…_

 

An answering smile tilted up the corners of Sora's mouth. "I love you."

 

His boyfriend tsked, his gaze turning confused. "What's that for?"

 

"Oh, nothing." The sheet of snow began to fall thicker between them. It was doing a good job of obscuring Squall's features. That didn't matter. Sora could feel his warmth, even from where he stood. They were just that in tune. "Can't I tell you I love you?"

 

_…It's all you can do to hold on._

Red and blue lights.

 

Squall lifted his head from the steering wheel. Pain registered at the back of his mind. It was searing across the bridge of his nose, down toward his cheek. Blood coated his face, he could taste it in his mouth. But it didn't matter. Nothing did. The last thing he'd seen was—

 

"Sora," he croaked, twisting in his seat.

 

Spider webs marred the glass of the windshield on Sora's side of the car. The passenger door was ajar, and snow dusted the abandoned seat. Crimson splashes were trailed through the snow, leading to Sora's figure, prone on the nearby sidewalk. Panic washed through Squall, and he fought to get out of his seat, but his seatbelt held him firmly in place. Frustrated, he yelled for his husband.

 

But Sora wasn't answering.

 

 

* * *

 

Sora's eyes fluttered open.

 

The sunlight stabbed his irises, and he groaned, rolling away from it. That ended up with his leg sprawled over someone else's, his arm in a similar state. He clenched his eyes shut, then opened them slowly, blearily. Squall was asleep before him, his bangs covering the wound he'd attained from the accident.

 

Sora's heart gave a strange thump.

 

_He didn't sleep on the couch last night?_

 

Like this, the other man looked… vulnerable. His expression was smoothed out, wiped completely free of worries or grumpiness. Sora touched his cheekbone, his thumb soothing over it shortly after. He wasn't sure what overcame him in that moment. It was just… he could see, maybe, why he'd married this man…

 

_What happened?_

 

He didn't have time to figure it out. In seconds, his stomach was cramping horribly. He threw back the covers on his side of the bed and made a run for the bathroom. Instinctively, he locked it behind him, and later, he would be glad he did. His knees hit the carpet as he thrust open the toilet, just in time for the horrible heave his body gave.

 

Gagging, his eyes and nose streaming, he threw up what little he'd consumed in the last twenty-four hours. Or, at least, he thought he did. What he saw in the murky waters afterward immediately made him scramble back against the wall in a panic, his eyes wide, his chest suddenly shuddering with his racing heart.

 

Blood.

 

His insides roiling at the mere _thought_ , he climbed unsteadily to his feet. He used a hand on the wall behind him to brace himself.

 

Squall was pounding on the door. "Sora! Sora, what's wrong?!" The knob rattled. "Sora? Sora! Let me in!"

 

His ears ringing, Sora took a step toward the toilet. Though blood filled the water, that wasn't what he tasted in his mouth. He touched his lips, where the sticky substance lingered. He looked at his fingertips. They were black.

 

_What…?_

 

"SORA! SORA, TALK TO ME!"

 

His husband's yelling penetrated the icy fog he'd been submerged in, and Sora swallowed. He was shaking. He flushed the toilet, then hastily tossed water on his face from the tap at the sink. His toothbrush ran over his teeth so hard with mint that he irritated his gums. Copper dripped onto his tongue. The _real_ flavor of blood.

 

Fighting repulsion, he unlocked the door. It took him a second. His fingers couldn't seem to stop shaking like the rest of him.

 

The moment the door was open, he was in Squall's arms, a big hand buried in his hair. Squall's nightshirt grazed his face. He inhaled the scent of what must have been pure Squall-ness. Slightly musky, very masculine. It was enticing. It promised him that if he let himself forget about what happened minutes ago, life would be a lot easier.

 

But Sora was tired of forgetting.

 

Squall withdrew, keeping his hands on Sora's shoulders. "What happened? Were you throwing up?"

 

"God, you know, I guess I just feel like I have a hangover…" Sora's smile was sheepish. "I don't remember shit from yesterday. What happened?"

 

The taller man exhaled. "You just… left. Then you came home around midnight and passed out. I mean—" He shook his head. "You _seemed_ drunk."

 

"Must have been!" Sora made sure to up the wattage on his smile. "I'm so sorry, Squall. I know I must have made you worry. That wasn't fair of me."

 

Squall hesitated, his tongue briefly touching his upper lip. A shrug moved through his shoulders. "It's… it's okay." Had the words been painful to exit his mouth? Seemed so. "It—I… Sora…" He ran his palm over his face. "Do me a favor?"

 

"Sure!"

 

"Carry your phone on you?" Squall walked over to the nightstand, turning around only to throw a slim object Sora's way. He caught it easily enough, which earned him a smirk. "I see your reflexes are still good."

 

"Yeah…" Sora left the bathroom. He was eager to forget about what had transpired this morning. Deep down, he knew the blood wasn't normal. Normal in the sense that if he went to the doctor, it wasn't going to do him a damn bit of good. How he knew that, he couldn't have said. It hummed in his bones, and that was enough for him. "Hey, why don't we… um… why won't we make today about us?"

 

Squall's brows rose. "Us…?"

 

"Yeah…" Sora tapped the top of his phone against his palm in rapid succession.

 

Squall noticed the tell. Sora could hide behind smiles like a champ, but whenever he started fidgeting? Something was clearly wrong. Given the events of last night, he was going to be keeping a close eye on Sora. If that meant spending a whole day together, and it being _Sora's_ idea, well, that just made his life a whole lot easier.

 

"Sure. What did you have in mind?"

 

 

* * *

 

"Look, this isn't a good idea…" Squall pinched the bridge of his nose. "You don't have your memory—and I haven't exactly told them that…"

 

"That's totally okay!" Sora was already pulling clothes from the closet to wear. Squall noted bemusedly that he found another one of Squall's hoodies. This one was black, just like the rest, except it had a penguin with a hockey stick on the front of it. "It'll be easier than meeting my friends."

 

"But my friends _are_ your friends…" _That doesn't make any sense._

 

"Yeah, I know, but—I don't know, just go with it, okay? I'm not ready to meet my own friends yet." Sora tugged the hoodie on over a simple white T-shirt. "But this is a good way for me to maybe… trigger some memories?"

 

Squall couldn't deny that. And, truth be told, he was desperately in need of Sora's memories to return. A sad Coldplay song wasn't cutting it. "I guess…"

 

"What about that Aerith girl?"

 

"She's at the beach with her boyfriend."

 

Sora's brows lifted to his hairline. "In the _winter_? We live near a beach?"

 

"No." Squall shook his head. "I mean, we don't live _near_ the beach—but yeah, they went." He thought they just wanted to get out of the city for a bit. She hadn't really specified, and being himself, he hadn't asked.

 

"Okaaaaay, so that's out. Who else, then? That blond guy that was in the car with you?" The petite man pulled on some jeans that were snug on the thighs and flared out into a bootcut at the knees.

 

Squall made himself look away. Ogling Sora was _out_ of the question, no matter how appealing. "Cloud. He's a doctor. And he's working."

 

"And…?"

 

"And what?"

 

Sora was suddenly right in front of him, making a face akin to a monkey. Squall took a step back despite himself. "And who else! You've got more than two friends, right?"

 

"Well…"

 

"Why are you hesitating?"

 

"It's just…" Squall could already feel a migraine coming on at the thought of who he was considering. "I just don't know if it's a good idea. She might be—overwhelming…"

 

"Perfect!" The smaller brunet gave a fist pump. "Who is it?"

 

 

* * *

 

 

"Sooooooooraaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"

 

"Yuffie, wait, don't rush him—"

 

Sora was knocked nearly off his feet, his arms suddenly full of a slender girl with black hair cut short. She was bouncing and holding him tightly to her. So tightly, he couldn't breathe. Really, he couldn't breathe… was losing oxygen rather quickly… Oh, God… his ribs…

 

"Hey…" he managed to rasp."

 

"SORAIWASSOWORRIEDABOUTYOUI'MSOGLADYOU'REOKAYYOUAREOKAYRIGHTSQUALLTOLDMEABOUTYOURMEMORYLOSSANDIJUSTCAN'TBELIEVEITYOU'RESUCHATROOPERI'MSOGLADYOUINVITEDMEOVER—"

 

Sora sent Squall a pleading look, but his husband only shrugged as if to say, "You're on your own with this one, pal. I warned you."

 

The injustice of it all.

 

Yuffie seemed to realize she was cutting off Sora's air. She let him go. "Hey, buddy, hey, pal!" She put her hands on his shoulders, her lips pulled into the sunniest grin imaginable. It was infectious. Within moments, Sora was grinning back. "Awh, there's the Sora we all know and love! Oh, crap, are you blushing?" Yuffie pivoted to Squall. "Squall, he's blushing!"

 

"I have eyes, Yuffie…"

 

"Just ignore him, he's crabby. You go and lose your memory, and the first thing you wake up to is _this guy_? Sheesh, I feel sooooo-ooo-ooo-rry for you, let me _tell_ you! But that's okay, we've got this, we'll make everything right as rain again!" She lifted up onto her tiptoes, both fists on her hips. "Are you ready for some fun?" She leaned forward and thrust a finger into his face. "'Cause I've got oodles of fun, you just say the word!"

 

Squall silently mouthed "Don't" behind Yuffie's back.

 

 _Curiosity killed the cat,_ Sora thought. "Fun?"

 

 

* * *

 

Oh, God.

 

They were going to die.

 

"Hey, this is awesome, right? Riiiight?!"

 

This was _so_ not awesome!

 

"It's okay, Sora!" Yuffie screamed over the wind whipping at their faces. "We'll be there in no time! Trust me!"

 

They were on a crotch rocket, and Sora wished he had known she was a psycho driver, because he would have opted out. Squall hadn't even warned him about this one! He'd stood by while she'd given him an extra helmet she'd brought along and helped him buckle it on. What, was his initial warning a disclaimer to the rest of the ensuing chaos or something?!

 

It wouldn't have been so bad—if Yuffie didn't take corners like they wouldn't be there the next day.

 

A massive monster truck honked at them as Yuffie sped out from the street they'd just been on, putting on an extra kick of speed. They narrowly missed being T-boned. Did that phase Yuffie at all? No. Not one, tiny bit.

 

"Hold on, Sora!" She completely bypassed the stop sign in favor of zooming down a new road.

 

_What, no cop, no stop?_

 

This road wasn't as good as the others had been. The snow plow trucks hadn't been through here, and it looked as though salt hadn't been laid out, either, or even gravel. That left mud to shoot up around them. Ice snatched at the tires of the bike, sending them fishtailing, and Sora almost broke Yuffie in half, he clutched at her thin form so hard. Through it all, Yuffie laughed, an almost maniac cackle that would haunt Sora until the end of his days.

 

An unknown amount of time later—it felt like eons, but might have been ten minutes, Sora was afraid to check—they arrived at the coffee shop.   

 

Sora climbed off the bike with shaky legs. He staggered as far away from the thing as he could. His fingers fumbled with the strap to the helmet. Curses left his mouth. _Stupid strap! Come on, get off already!_  

 

"Having a problem?"

 

Gasping, Sora whirled around.

 

Riku grinned at him. "Hey, doofus. Miss me?"

 

"Miss you? Get this damn helmet off me and maybe I can answer that!"

 

"Haha, sure, asshole." Riku unsnapped a buckle, and the blasted thing came free. Sora was left to breathe in relief at that. He fluffed his spikes back up. The last thing he wanted was helmet hair. "Remember me?"

 

"Yup!"

 

"Good. That means it's working, then."

 

"Huh? What's working?"

 

"The blood."

 

"Uh, helloooooooooooooooooooooooooooo?" Yuffie was between them, poking a finger in Riku's chest. "Who the hell are _you_ , buddy? You got some 'splaining to do! You can't friendnap Sora here, okay?! He's off limits! I got dibs! Go away! Shoo!"

 

Sora blinked. Blood? What was Riku talking about? And _of course_ he remembered him. Riku had picked him up the day before! They'd had a marvelous time. Doing… stuff… that was a little foggy at the moment, but Sora was sure it would come back to him. Maybe.

 

Damn, what _had_ they been doing?

 

His head prickled with the stirrings of pain.

 

"Yuffie, right?" Riku grasped her by the biceps and smoothly moved her to his right. "Sora, don't think about it too hard, okay?" He touched Sora's chin, made him meet his eyes. "Okay?"

 

"Okay…" Sora breathed. _Huh. Guess it doesn't really matter, does it?_ Not when he felt so calm.

 

"How'd you know my name!" Yuffie hopped up and down. "Not just anybody knows my name, pal!" Her fists jabbed the air in front of her. "Hey, stop ignoring me! Who the hell are you?!"

 

"Riku." He turned to her with a dazzling smile. It made warmth shoot straight down through Sora, touching his toes. "I'm Sora's best friend. We've known each other since we were kids. He never mentioned me?"

 

Yuffie crossed her arms under her small breasts. "No!" Her brown eyes narrowed in suspicion. A loud humming noise escaped her.

 

"Would you mind if I bought you guys some coffee?"

 

It was as though someone had flipped a switch. Instantly, Yuffie perked up, holding out her hand. "Sure thing, buddy! I'm all about some hunk paying for my java!"

 

Sora couldn't help but giggle.

 

 

* * *

 

"Squall?" Cloud blinked, setting his chart down at the nurse's counter and coming over to where Squall stood nearby, safely out of the way of the stampeding staff and patients. The emergency room was unusually packed for this hour.

 

"Hey…" Squall shuffled his feet. He could count on one hand the number of times he'd visited his friend at work. "I need to talk to somebody."

 

Blue eyes widened a little in surprise. Squall was hoping Cloud would just go with it. It wasn't often that Squall needed to 'talk.' To his immense relief, Cloud nodded a moment later, briefly touching Squall on the elbow before he jerked his head toward the elevator.

 

"Wait by my office. I'll be up there when I can spare a minute. It may be a bit, though." His eyes flickered over the waiting patients. All of them ranged from mild colds to a girl with her leg propped up, a gash near her knee that had soaked down to her sock in blood. The people clustered around her were woozy, green around the edges.

 

But blood had never bothered Squall.

 

"Sure." Squall grazed Cloud's forearm with the backs of his fingers, returning a touch for touch, as he passed.

 

He didn't see the way Cloud's gaze lingered over his retreating back. But then, he never did, because he had never once glanced back in the entirety of their friendship. Cloud smiled sadly to himself, picking his chart back up and scribbling something down about the patient he'd just come from seeing.

 

 

* * *

 

Riku set Sora's caramel macchiato on the table beside Yuffie's vanilla latte. Despite the cold weather, Riku had bought himself a blended ice coffee, and he stuck a straw into it now, idly glancing around the shop. It was a nice place, Sora had to admit, glad Yuffie had taken him here, even though he could have done without the ride.

 

The walls were painted espresso in some places and a dark, forest green in others. Paintings from local artists were on display everywhere, most with price tags of upwards of $150. There was a couch by the far windows that lined one wall, its sofa cushions a little threadbare, but all the homier for it. A loveseat faced it. Behind it was a bookshelf with a small selection of books for sale, along with coffee cups and other paraphernalia. A newsstand off to the side of it had three different newspapers, most of the selection gone from the morning rush.

 

To Sora's right were pastries, encased in glass with white cards that indicated which was which. Cute, girly handwriting was on each, and the pastries themselves looked fresh and mouthwatering. Blueberry crumble muffins, classic coffee cake, pumpkin bread, lemon bread, cheesecake, and more. Biscotti was arranged artfully on the counter by the cash registers, and a tip jar was halfway full.

 

The baristas all looked cheerful. They worked in sync with one another, fluidly moving around the cramped space of the coffee station. Steamed milk filled Sora's ears, along with festive holiday music from the speakers. A line formed to the doorway, businessmen with phones at their ears, nurses on break from the nearby doctors' office building, college kids, and an exhausted set of parents with a wriggling child between them.

 

Sora sipped his macchiato after blowing carefully on it. The whipped cream and caramel drizzle was a sweet rush over his tongue, followed by the bitter espresso. "I'm glad you know what I like to drink, Yuffie."

 

She saluted him. "That's what us pals are for! Although…" She eyed Riku's iced beverage. " _Someone_ here clearly has a few screws loose."

 

"I'll take that as a compliment, coming from you." Riku smiled around his straw, his bangs hiding the intensity of his eyes.

 

Yuffie started to steam. "Just what does _that_ mean, huh?!"

 

Sora took that as his cue to change the subject. "How often did I ride on your bike with you, Yuffie?"

 

She eyed Riku beadily a moment longer, then crossed her arms and turned her nose up in the air. "All the time, Sora," she said knowledgeably. Sora got the impression of a wise old sage. "At least once a week. Usually twice. We go to school together, so we'd carpool. Sometimes we'd take your Jeep, other times we'd ride my bike." Her lips curled into a grin. "The ride here was wicked, am I right, or am—I—right?"

 

"Uh… I plead the fifth?"

 

Riku snickered over his coffee as Yuffie puffed up like a bird about to go on the offensive. "Sora! Why are you lying to me, huh?"

 

"I'm _not_ lying, I'm just keeping silent on my opinion!" Sora stuck his tongue out at her. "How'd we meet? Through Squall, right?"

 

" _Actually_ …" All the air left Yuffie, a balloon deflating inside of her. "We met in class. We found out _later_ that I'd known your beau growing up! He was older. Used to babysit me." She wrinkled her nose. "Crappy babysitter if you ask _me_ —no one ever does, but that's my story, and I'm stickin' to it!"

 

Sora had to admire her energy levels. Maybe if he trapped an IV to himself from her blood, he could get his own rush for the day. He'd been incredibly tired since he'd woken up that morning. "Did we have any classes together this semester? Before the… accident?"

 

"Maybe we should talk about something else," Riku interjected. "Something less gloomy."

 

"Grrr, wise guy, the day I met Sora was like fate! We're two peas in a pod! Talking about it could _never_ be gloomy!" Yuffie's eyes were practically lasers, threatening to turn Riku into a smoldering pile of ash.

 

"That's true. But I don't want to hear about Squall anymore." Riku shrugged.

 

"We _aren't_ talking about Squall—"

 

"You just brought him up. When you said how you met Sora, that Squall used to babysit you." Riku arched an eyebrow. He still hadn't touched his blended drink. Perspiration clung to its plastic, sliding to make a ring around it on the tabletop. "Or am I wrong?"

 

Yuffie huffed, opened her mouth—then rolled her eyes playfully and smacked her forehead. "I guess you're right. It's habit, you know? That's all Sora ever talked about before he—well—you know." She not so surreptitiously gestured to her temple.  

 

"Had an aneurism?" Sora said dryly. She made it sound like it was something severe like that, and not amnesia. Not that amnesia wasn't severe.

 

The petite woman had the grace to blush. "Okay, I'm making things awkward." She looked at both men, then got to her feet, hands planted on the table to help push her up. "I'm going to go do something really stupidly girly, like powder my nose." With a two-fingered salute, she was gone.

 

Sora grinned to himself in her absence. "Meeting everybody else has been so weird. They always look at me like they expect me to know them." Not that he could blame them. "But Yuffie doesn't. It's like she just… rolls with the punches. It's nice."

 

"Sure, if you like seeing the humanized form of speed."

 

Having just taken a sip of his coffee, Sora choked on it. "You mean the drug?" he said when his eyes had stopped watering.

 

"Of course not."

 

Sora's grin widened. "Nice."

 

"Listen, Sora. We don't have a lot of time before she comes back." Riku leaned across the table, casually pushing his coffee aside. His eyes peered into Sora's, so intensely that for a moment, Sora forgot how to breathe. It wasn't a sensation he thought he liked very much, but for the life of him, he knew he couldn't look away. "Last night, you promised me something. Do you remember what it was?"

 

Sora blinked very slowly. The details of the night before were fuzzy at best, having come back to him the moment he saw Riku outside the coffee shop. Funny, how drunkenness worked like that. But whenever Riku was around, he didn't have to worry about anything. He knew in his gut that Riku would take care of him. And while normally the idea of someone protecting him rubbed him the wrong way, with Riku? That wasn't the case at all.

 

"I may have compelled you too deeply." Riku sighed. For just a moment, concern touched his brow. Then it smoothed out again, and he reached out, gripping Sora's hand. His fingers were just as cold as the day before. "Sora… You promised me that you would never hate me. That you would always forgive me, no matter what I did."

 

At that, Sora laughed. It was a soft sound. "Of course I did. And I meant it, Riku." How could he have forgotten a promise so important? he chastised himself.

 

"Good." Riku released him. Yuffie was exiting the bathroom now, scrunching her hair in her hands to give it more volume. "After today, you might not see me for a time."

 

"Why?"

 

"I have some… matters to attend to."

 

The words were so strangely formal, Sora couldn't help but notice them. Not that he got a chance to question Riku about it. Yuffie had resumed her seat, and the second she had her coffee in her hand again, she was chattering away. Sora let himself get swept up in the conversation. There was something in his mind that was urging him to, and how could he _not_ listen? Of course, he would. He was being protected, after all.

 

Riku watched Sora converse with Yuffie silently, his eyes focused on the brunet and only the brunet.

 

 

* * *

 

Cloud sighed and tossed some papers on his desk. Normally he took greater care than that, but he was tired. It had been a long day, and it didn't seem like he was going home anytime soon. He wouldn't have even paused to take a break if Squall hadn't been waiting for him. So he removed his stethoscope, tape, and various other items, and sat himself at his desk.

 

The other man sat up straighter in one of the leather chairs in front of the desk. "It's Sora."

 

The blond man smiled faintly to himself. He should have taken a bet, he would have won.

 

"What's so funny?"

 

"Mmm?" Cloud hadn't realized his smile had come off that way. "Nothing." He slouched a little in his seat. His eyes were so tired, he could barely keep them open. Unfortunately, he was used to it. Sleep was something he'd sacrificed for the medical field. Relationships were close behind it. He practically lived at the hospital.

 

He played with a pencil on his desk, studying Squall from the corner of his eye in a way that Squall wouldn't catch on to. He never asked Squall the questions. Squall preferred not to be pushed. If he wanted to talk, he would open up more on his own. It had been that way since they were children.

 

But then he saw Squall grabbing the bridge of his nose.

 

"Stop that," he chided softly. "You're going to reopen your stitches."

 

The brunet dropped his hand. "I probably shouldn't have come here."

 

"Probably," Cloud agreed. Squall's eyes snapped to him at that, a storm flashing in their gray depths, but Cloud only shrugged. "He's your husband, he's lost his memory. So what are you doing here?" He would never complain, far from it. But he couldn't disagree that Squall had better places to be, more _important_ places to be. Better, after all, was subject to dispute, in Cloud's opinion.

 

Not that that had ever mattered.

 

Not that he'd ever voiced that opinion, either.

 

Squall's lips pursed. "He's with Yuffie."

 

The doctor hummed thoughtfully and tapped the end of his pencil against a pile of papers. He had a deposition notice there, along with charts from a past patient, one who had been shot. That was due in two hours, and Cloud hoped it wouldn't take too long. They were busy today, and Squall was already eating up precious time.

 

"He's with Yuffie," Squall repeated with another of those drawn out sighs, "and I let him just… leave. He said he wanted to spend the day together, and I didn't stop him when Yuffie kidnapped him. What's _wrong_ with me?"

 

 _Absolutely nothing._ But Cloud knew he was biased. Always had been. "Do you really want to know, or are we speaking hypothetically?"

 

That he didn't get a glare at that response elicited a flicker of worry in Cloud. Squall was pretty upset.

 

"Look," he ventured at length, when it was clear Squall wasn't going to say anything further. "It's obvious, isn't it? The day you met Sora, he was already crazy about you. Despite your… extensive anti-socialism, Sora didn't care about that. He knew it. He accepted it." Cloud shook his head. He hated talking about crap like this. But for Squall? He'd take one for the team. "You were free to be yourself. Now he's lost his memory. He doesn't know you. He has no idea what you were like beforehand. And you're afraid that that will make you lose him."

 

Squall didn't even protest. He put his elbows on his knees, hung his face between them, hands clasped at the back of his neck. "Yeah…"

 

"Don't. His memories will come back—"

 

"But what if they _don't_?" His head snapped up as quickly as it had lowered. "He vanished yesterday, Cloud. I looked _everywhere_ for him."

 

Cloud remained silent. He remembered the frantic texts. But Sora wouldn't have come to him. He never would have. They were polite to each other, but they weren't, exactly, friends.

 

"Then he comes home in the middle of the night. Wasted."

 

The doctor made a small noise. "With his brain injury, that's… reckless." Sora was known for being reckless, yet certainly not to that extent. He could see why Squall was upset.

 

"I just—I don't know… if I can do this…" Squall said slowly. "I don't know if I can… fix this."

 

Cloud didn't know what to say. He was as bad as Squall about these things.

 

And Squall still always found his way to him regardless of that.

 

"I… I've gotta go. They'll be back any second now." Squall got to his feet. It was abrupt, sure, but it was a far cry better than the usual _silent_ departure, where Squall would leave places without telling anyone what he was doing or where he was going.

 

"Don't give up yet," Cloud murmured. He knew Squall heard him by the way the other man's shoulders tightened. He stared at Squall's back, very familiar with its planes. Ever since Sora had walked into the writer's life, he'd been seeing a lot of it.

 

A hand raised in farewell, Squall left without another word.

 

Cloud slumped down further in his seat.

 

_What are you doing? Pushing him toward the enemy? You love him. This is the perfect opportunity to win him over._

 

But it felt too much like it would be cheating. If he was going to win Squall over, he wanted to do it fair and square.

 

Even if that meant they would never be together.

 

 _Pathetic,_ he thought.

 

Pathetic.


	5. Two Ghosts and One Mirror

 

 

If there was one thing Riku was good at, it was pretending nothing bothered him.

 

"What's up, Norty? You summoned me?"

 

Ethoran's eye twitched—quite literally, to Riku's unending amusement, and he was privately impressed that his elder didn't say anything further. Not that Ethoran looked much older than him. In fact, someone might even confuse him for the younger of the two. With his snow white hair, which fell in three points at the base of his skull before flowing into a waterfall down his back, and the wide set of his amber eyes set in a smoothly tanned face, Ethoran had been a master at fooling everyone for years. Including Riku himself. But that was long ago.

 

"Oh, that's right." Riku picked up an apple and gave it a light toss with a snap of his wrist. He watched its descent, let his fingers curl around its waxy surface when it landed back in his palm. "You're not going by Xehanort anymore."

 

"Riku, let us not waste our times on the simplicity of a name." Ethoran smoothed his hand down his shirt. It was button-up, crisp and white, with a popped collar, going well with the blazer he'd thrown over it and the thin capris rolled up just beneath his calves to show the fabric was pinstriped on the inside. His feet were bare for the moment, his loafers left by Riku's front door.

 

" _Now_ names are simple? How the times have changed." Riku took a chunk of apple. The juice was a sweet burst on his tongue. He'd regret it later, of course, but he would do anything to get under Ethoran's skin.

 

As expected, Ethoran's eyes narrowed. He lifted his nose. "How do you even bring yourself to eat that, Riku?"

 

"It's pretty amazing. It's called an apple. Want one?"

 

The other man sniffed. "Look at you. Speaking in their ways, so _modernly_ , and if that was not bad enough, succumbing to their horrid food. I made you better than this."

 

"You're dressed pretty modern," Riku felt it his duty to point out. Ethoran's words didn't bother him anymore, and in the rare instance they did, he was able to keep a good poker face. This wasn't one of those instances. Riku's smile was easy to come.

 

"That is different."

 

"How?"

 

"I could hardly blend in with them if I did not dress in such a fashion."

 

About twenty responses popped into Riku's mind, and he shook them all away. He'd learned to pick his battles with Ethoran. "Right. So—you're here. You summoned me. I came home. What do you want?"

 

"You have not called this place 'home' in quite some time…" Ethoran ran his fingers over the counter beside him. They came covered away in dust.

 

**_I'm going to pop some tags, only got twenty dollars in my pocket, I'm huntin', looking for a come up, this is fucking awesome_ **

The way Ethoran's eyes rounded as the song lilted through the kitchen was priceless. Riku chuckled to himself and pulled the slim cell phone out that was buried in his pocket. He noted the name, hummed, and hit ignore. It was okay. The caller wouldn't take too much offense, and unless it was important, he'd leave a voicemail instead of blowing up his phone.

 

"What is _that_?"

 

"Music. Boy, Norty, you've spent way too much in that cave lately." 

 

" _Enough_ , Riku." Those amber eyes of the elder man's burned into him, and as abruptly as it always did, Riku's amused mood left him. He would only take it to the line that Ethoran allowed him—once there, Ethoran drew it sharply in the sand, and Riku knew it was time to stop.

 

"As you wish it, Master."

 

A satisfied smile curled over Ethoran's lips. "Good. Come. We have much to discuss about young Sora."

 

 

* * *

 

"Sora, wake up. Someone's here to see you." It was all Squall said before he gone again, and Sora grumbled, left in the silence of the bedroom.

 

Dread filled him as sleep cleared his foggy mind and he pulled on clothes. A T-shirt that looked like it had seen better days, jeans with holes in the knees, and another of Squall's hoodies. This one was black and nothing else. It fell to his knees, it was so huge, and carried strongly Squall's scent beneath the detergent. It was a little faded, and there was a bleach stain near the hem of it. Squall had either really loved this hoodie, or he used it when he was slumming it or cleaning.

 

He splashed water on his face in the bathroom after a quick wash of his teeth. The hardwood was ice on the soles of his feet, but he didn't stop to put on socks or house slippers as he followed Squall's earlier path. The strains of a TV show reached his ears from the living room, and cooking bacon made his stomach grumble hungrily.  Whatever time it was, it had to be around breakfast, although it felt much later. Sora was just so _tired_.

 

He was still scrubbing grit from his eyes when he turned into the living room and came to a halt. There, by the window, was a blond man, his back facing Sora. For a moment, Sora thought it was that blond he'd spotted in the car with Squall that first day he'd woken up memory-less, but no, his hair wasn't spiky enough.

 

"Um…" Sora said.

 

The man spun. His eyes, so big and blue, widened as they took in Sora. Wrinkles lined the corners of his eyes in gentle crow's feet, and gray threaded the blond locks, not easily seen without the aid of the sun now at his back. "Sora."

 

Deep down in his heart, for the first time since he'd been dealing with the aching loss of so many memories, a pang of familiarity lit within Sora. "Yeah?"

 

The man took a step to the chair in front of him. His hands settled on the back of it and dug in until his knuckles shook, the flesh a stark white now against the brown leather. "When Squall told me what happened…" He shook his head, his eyes lowering. "I didn't want to believe it… I'd done my best to protect you, and you still…"

 

Okay. This was really getting weird.

 

"Do I… know you?" Sora prompted him. Of course, he likely knew the guy. Squall didn't seem like he got a lot of visitors. But he didn't know what else to say.

 

"I'm your father—Ventus." The blond didn't move from his spot behind the chair. "I should have told you…" The words were soft, barely carrying across the room to Sora's ears. "I thought it would be safer this way…"

 

"Look… I'm not trying to be rude, but what the heck are you going on about?" Sora wrapped his arms around himself. He felt… strange. The man was his father, and he didn't remember a single thing about him. No surprise, given the last week, but when he'd seen the others and had mutely stared at them, unable to recall a single detail, it hadn't been as uncomfortable as it was right now.

 

"He's come to you, hasn't he?"

 

" _Who's_ come to me?" Wasn't this supposed to be a touching reunion? Instead, Ventus was babbling on about something Sora had no clue about.

 

"One of Ethoran's children."

 

Sora licked his lips, debating if he should call for Squall or not. Whether his father or not, this man clearly wasn't well. Ventus' eyes wouldn't settle on any particular spot, constantly shifting around. He still had that death grip on the chair, and beads of sweat had broken out over his brows. Was he high? Coming down from coke or something?

 

"I don't know what you're talking ab—"

 

"Vanitas or Riku? Which is it?" Now Ventus left his chair, crossing the room in five quick strides until he could take Sora's wrists up on his own. Sora couldn't help but note how frigid the other's fingers were, like the blood wasn't flowing there properly, or like the man was a chain smoker. Nicotine wasn't wafting off him, though, so that didn't seem to be it.

 

If it were anyone but his father, Sora would have jerked free. "Riku? I… met a guy named Riku. I guess we were best friends or something?" Sora shrugged. "I mean, I don't really remember—"

 

"Sora." Ventus' grip tightened to the point of pain. " _Stay_ away from him! Do you hear me? Stay away!"

 

Concern flashed through Sora. " _Why_?" he shot back defensively. "There's nothing wrong with him—"

 

"Has anything weird happened?" Ventus cut in again. "Maybe you threw up blood, or you know you spent time with him, but you can't really remember the details," he pressed. "And this memory loss of yours, it isn't normal—he's behind it—he has to be!"

 

Cold swamped Sora in a dizzying, paralyzing rush, akin to a bucket of frigid slush being dumped over his head. The things Ventus was talking about, no one should have known about. Sora had wanted to keep them to himself, fearful of what they would mean when he already had so much on his plate to deal with. But now his father showed up out of the blue, asking him crazy questions about Riku, attributing the fair-haired man to his memory—

 

"Stop." Sora firmly dragged his wrists away from the older man. "The doctor said—"

 

"Said _what_?" Ventus' voice was a frantic whisper. "That he didn't know, that it was some unexplained phenomenon?"

 

His son hesitated. Well…

 

"It's _always_ a phenomenon, no matter what they do! It was like that with me. But I thought Vanitas got what he wanted, I thought…" Ventus shook his head so quickly, his hair was a mess by the time he was done. "I thought Ethoran's line wouldn't need anyone for a while… but…"

 

" _What_ are you talking about?!" Sora finally burst out. He didn't like the panic clawing at his throat, and he didn't like that his father was attributing to it. This was just too fucking bizarre. "I have too much to deal with right now! I don't need this shit!"

 

"Sora?" Squall called from the kitchen at the yell.

 

"I did a lot to protect you and Roxas, Sora!" The blond, not much taller than him, with eyes that Sora recognized from his many glances into the mirror this week, reached for his son again, but Sora stepped out of easy reach. "Promise me you won't see him again! He'll feed you so many lies—and you'll want to believe all of them—" His eyes wet, Ventus broke off. It was a long moment before he spoke again, and his voice cracked. "I barely got away from Vanitas—"

 

"Sora?" Squall called again, more impatiently.

 

"You're not making any _sense_!" Sora hissed. "I'm fine!" he yelled over his shoulder to Squall. He didn't want his husband to walk in on this. Not yet, anyway. For now, his father was harmless. 

 

"You're _not fine_!" Taking advantage of his momentary distraction, Ventus grabbed Sora by the elbows and dragged him close. The blond squeezed his eyes shut, nearly white lashes touching down on his cheeks like feathers, and a second later, Sora gasped.

 

The lines around Ventus' eyes had disappeared. The gray strands in his hair were gone, giving way to lustrous locks that looked like they'd been dipped in gold. The slight dry quality of his skin had vanished, seeming to glow from within. And his eyes, when he opened them again, were an intense, Robin's egg blue, flecks of amber standing out starkly from within them, tiny suns.

 

Sora realized his mouth was hanging open.

 

"He'll promise to make you young forever," Ventus breathed. "It's a promise he won't break. But the price you'll pay…"

 

"How the hell did you do that?" Sora whispered. Despite himself, he reached out, touching the corner of his father's eye, where the skin was now smooth, wholly unblemished.

 

"This is what I look like without the glamour Vanitas taught me, so people wouldn't grow suspicious when I wasn't aging…" The blond lowered his head, his eyes so sad, so serious. "I thought they were vampires or something like it… but it's not like that at all… they're not demons, either. I don't even think _they_ know what they are… But, Sora…" He gripped Sora's hand in his own and guided it to rest over his heart. "Be careful."

 

Ventus' heart was a strong, steady beat beneath Sora's fingertips. "I don't understand."

 

"They are creatures of darkness… incredible darkness. And they've been alive such a long time. But to keep living, they need their only source of sustenance. Blood will tide them over, but it's never enough."

 

Sora shook his head quickly back and forth. All right, so he was a bit terrified. This was some seriously creepy shit, and he couldn't entirely attribute it to his father possibly having a drug problem. Not when he'd thrown up blood—not when his recollection of time spent with Riku was so distorted.

 

"They want your light, Sora. Never give it to them. Do you hear me? _Never_." Ventus' eyes stared fiercely into his own. "Nothing is worth it. Not eternal life. Not the love you think he harbors for you. _Nothing_."

 

 

* * *

 

Sora was shaken as he settled himself at the kitchen table. His father had left moments ago, just after his eerie, desperate message. At the stove, Squall slid pancakes onto a plate beside bacon and scrambled eggs. Sora could feel the taller man's eyes on him, but neither of them spoke. Squall wouldn't press—he never did. It was one of the things Sora liked about him.

 

 He debated if he should tell him everything—Ventus' suspicions for why his memory was gone, the blood he'd thrown up, the way he could remember Riku but _not_ remember Riku… It was a bit frightening, how the adrenaline rush of listening to crazy talk was gone. Because, when he looked at the facts, it wasn't all that crazy. It was pretty spot-on actually.

 

But would Squall look at Sora the way Sora had looked at Ventus?

 

Like he _was_ insane?

 

Sora could imagine it now. Squall would think his head injury had had even deeper repercussions than anyone could have realized. He'd send him straight back to Dr. Ansem. There was no way he _wouldn't_. He'd been focused so much on Sora's health, something like this would be an obvious setback, a red flag of panic for Squall.

 

"You shouldn't do that," Squall's soft voice broke through his thoughts.

 

Sora pulled his thumb from his mouth. He'd been chewing on his nails rather fervently. "Would you mind if I took a walk?"

 

"Now?" His husband's brows lifted. "Breakfast is done."

 

"I'm not hungry." Without waiting for an answer, Sora abandoned his roost at the table to slide on the snow boots in the mudroom that Riku had gotten him. He was halfway down the block on their street when he realized he hadn't bothered with a jacket.

 

But the strangest thing was, he didn't feel cold.

 

 

* * *

 

"Ventus? What's wrong?"

 

Ventus brushed past his oldest friend, a man by the name of Terra, and saw himself into the large manor. It had taken him two hours to get here, a long drive from Radiant Garden. The second he'd left his son's house, all he could think about was Terra. Terra, Terra, Terra. Terra would know what to do. He would understand. He'd known Ethoran far longer than anybody, after all.

 

The blond ran a shaky hand over his mouth, not seeing anything. He'd grown used to the splendor of Terra's manor two centuries ago.

 

"Ventus?" Terra's large hand settled on his shoulder. "I can't read minds…"

 

Ventus laughed. He didn't know what else to do. "The one thing you _can't_ do." He turned to face his friend. "Do you remember?" He had to look up to see the other man. Terra was so much taller than him. Tall, but a lithe grace contained in his broad shoulders and muscular torso. His brown eyes surveyed Ventus calmly now, rarely ruffled.

 

"Remember what?" Terra had on a loose button-down opened at the chest, thrown hastily over a pair of wrinkled jeans. By the way his dark hair was standing up more than usual, he must have been sleeping when Ventus arrived.

 

"Aqua."

 

Terra's eyes tightened around the corners. His hand dropped from Ventus' shoulder.

 

"I know you remember," Ventus pressed. He reached for Terra, but the older man stepped deftly away.

 

"I could never forget." There was a harsh intensity in his friend's voice. "Why are you here, Ventus?" Open and welcome before, now those eyes surveyed him with something close to hostility.

 

"When I wanted to marry Yukiru, you warned me against it. You told me it was too dangerous."

 

Terra let out a long, weary sigh, a sigh that seemed like it belonged to someone much older than he. That was the thing about appearances. They really could be deceiving.

 

"Ethoran," Terra said at last. It wasn't a question.

 

"Riku," Ventus informed him.

 

The other man's eyes lifted at that. Whatever anger he'd been harboring against Ventus minutes ago had vanished. "Riku?" Surprise colored his tone. "But I thought—"

 

"We were wrong. It seems he's realigned himself with Ethoran." Ventus wrapped his arms around himself. It was close to eighty degrees in the house, but he might as well have been standing out in the acres of snow on Terra's property, for how cold he was at that moment.

 

"Why would he…?"

 

"I don't know." Ventus met Terra's puzzled gaze with his own solemn one. "But you were right about one thing, Terra. I shouldn't have married Yukiru. Just like you let Aqua go, I should have let Yukiru go—"

 

Terra was shaking his head. "Ventus, _why_ have you come here? Tell me." Brown eyes met blue ones and held them, refusing to back down or to let others go.

 

As keenly as ever, Ventus felt that gaze touch his heart. "I've kept a secret from you, Terra. A big secret…" He found the strength to drop his head, and when Terra's hands encompassed both his shoulders, still he didn't look up. "You're going to hate me…"

 

"Ven, I could never hate you." Long, slender fingers ruffled through his hair. Once, they had mastered the sword, a slender, lethal, albeit heavy weapon. But like so many other things over the past hundreds of years, that choice had been taken from Terra. And Terra did not like guns. "Ever."

 

"You say that now…" Ventus' throat was so tight, it hurt to get the words out.

 

Terra said nothing, a silent sentinel, willing to protect him against everything. But would he still want to after this?

 

After a long time, Ventus was able to find the courage to tell Terra the very thing that would cast Ventus from his home forever.

 

"Yukiru… she… she gave birth to twins, Terra…"

 

Terra's fingers had become bands of iron around Ventus' shoulders.

 

"And, yes… they were mine…"

 

 

* * *

 

Night was falling.

 

Sora's fingers were red and more than numb as he raised them to bang on the solid oak door in front of him. His teeth were chattering and his hair had iced over from the torrent of snow he'd sloughed through, yet he still wasn't cold. Nothing could match the ice that was shooting into his veins with every pump of his heart.

 

The door opened to reveal Riku's silhouette. Wordlessly, the silver-haired man stepped aside, his hand gripping Sora's wrist and tugging him inside.

 

"I wasn't expecting you, Sora." The door shut out the howl of wind and snowflakes, and Riku stiffened. Cold fingers that somehow penetrated past the layer of ice on Sora's face gripped Sora's chin. "Did you _walk_ here?"

 

Sora shrugged him off. "I remembered the address and I can't drive. I didn't have your phone number for you to call me. And I couldn't wait until you decided you wanted to drop in on me again."

 

Green eyes softened. "Sora… come here…"

 

"No." Sora stepped away from the taller man and let his eyes roam over the house he'd found himself in. It seemed… empty. Oh, it had the essentials—furniture for a dining room off to Sora's right, a cabinet of really old but pristine China near its grand table and the upholstered chairs surrounding it. A staircase looped in a spiral to the left of the foyer, and the path directly before Sora was a hallway with a hardwood floor, its walls decorated with paintings of mountain scenery.

 

But it felt like nobody lived here. Like Sora could have found this same image on a postcard for old-fashioned homes. 

 

He pulled off Squall's hoodie, his shirt bunching around his abdomen as he did so. He let the thick fabric fall to the floor at his feet. It was soaking wet from melted snow. "I need a bath. Something warm to drink. And I'm hungry. I left this morning, so it's taken me all day to walk here."

 

Half of him expected Riku to protest how demanding he was being. But the other half of him, the part that had known, somehow, that Riku would bend over backward for him if the situation was serious enough, wasn't surprised. As Riku gestured, Sora kicked off his boots so he wouldn't track mud and followed Riku up the staircase.

 

 

* * *

 

The bath was vintage. It was white, above ground, with giant lion's paws to hold it upright poking out from beneath it. Hot water soaked into Sora's skin and bones, making the former sting from how long he'd been exposed to the blizzard still whirling away outside of the window that overlooked the bathroom. Steam unfurled around his face, and he closed his eyes, slipping deeper into the tub.

 

Squall had likely had a heart attack by now, but it wasn't the first time this week Sora had vanished.

 

He'd already decided he was going to demand some answers out of Riku. He had to find out if what Ventus had said was true. Even now, Sora had difficulty of thinking of Ventus as his "father." But if Ventus was right, and Riku had taken away his memories…

 

He took his time bathing, making sure he scrubbed every inch of skin. He wanted to give himself as much time as possible to prepare for the discussion he was to have with Riku. He really had no way of knowing how it was going to turn out, if he would be able to get some answers or if more would just form.

 

When he stepped from the tub, water streaming down his body in tiny waterfalls, he shivered, finally, in the cold air. Goosebumps broke over his flesh and his nipples pricked. He reached for one of the fluffy towels laid out on a chair nearby and fluffed every inch of himself clean, but left his hair damp. He hooked the towel around his waist, frowning as he realized he didn't have any clothes. But when he opened the door to call for Riku, he found a pair folded just outside of it.

 

The shirt was clearly Riku's, too big but soft and smelling nice, slightly musky, like pine. A pair of cozy, plaid sleeping pants followed that, also two sizes too large. That was all right if they were just pajamas. Sora gathered up his own clothes so he could put them in the dryer. He had no intention of staying the night. Squall would freak, and there was no need to make him worry longer than was necessary.

 

He found Riku in the living room. Like the rest of the house, it seemed bereft of human life. Just the basics, nothing more. But the fire crackling in the huge grate looked inviting, and he sat himself before it, holding out his hands to warm them.

 

Riku lowered the book he'd been perusing onto the coffee table and rose from the leather sofa. He didn't approach Sora. "So what's this about? I've waited long enough, I think."

 

The flames were so pretty… Amber and red, jumping over one another on the logs they were consuming. Birch wood, Sora noted idly, feeling a pang as the white bark was incinerated. "My father came to see me today."

 

Riku didn't hesitate. "So?"

 

"He mentioned that you were responsible for why I can't remember anything—even him."

 

"And do you believe him?"

 

"Why else would I be here, asking you about it, if I didn't at least suspect he's not completely on crack?"

 

Riku chuckled then, and Sora shivered at the sound. Riku might as well have been directly behind him, running a fingertip oh so carefully down the length of his spine, for how close it had felt.

 

"Ventus has always been loyal to the people he cares about. I see his son isn't an exception."

 

Sora had to fight the urge to get up and start shaking Riku, demanding answers. Something told him that wasn't the way to go about it. So he fell onto his back on the plush red carpet and peered up at the slender form of his newfound friend who was much more dangerous than he appeared.

 

"So did he tell the truth?" Sora curled an arm around his head. Was he trying to appear appealing? Perhaps.

 

"Ah, Sora…" Riku sighed. "Don't you like things this way? Just peaceful oblivion? Enjoying one another's company without having to concern ourselves with the logistics of it?"

 

"No." There was no reason not to be honest. "There are some things I value more than peaceful oblivion." _Like my memory, Riku_ , he didn't say.

 

The saddest smile Sora had ever seen touched Riku's mouth then, quirking up one corner ever so slightly. "I'm going to miss you, Sora. It nearly killed me when I lost you the first time."

 

The first time?

 

"But… if you really want… I guess I have no choice. I never cared about anyone's happiness before I met you. No matter how much you'll realize you hate me, that will never change." His voice dropped, murmuring mostly to himself, "Even if I wish it would."

 

Sora couldn't contain his excitement as he back into a sitting position. He twisted around so he was facing Riku and not the fire. "You can give my memory back?"

 

"I took it away," he said. "I can give it back."

 

His heart was pounding so hard, Sora didn't think he could take much more of it. He wanted his memory back so badly. Had since he'd woken up in his house with Squall, so lost and confused and frightened. But he'd resigned himself to possibly never getting it back. It hadn't taken long. Yet now, here Riku was, telling him it could be returned to him. Sora would deal with the fact that Riku had taken it in the _first place_ later.

 

"Please?" Sora whispered.

 

Expression pained, Riku dropped to one knee before Sora. He held out his hands, showing them to Sora before he lifted them, gently pushing Sora's spikes out of the way so he could cup his cheeks.

 

"After I do this, I want you to promise me you'll eat before I send you home."

 

It was a strange request, but what could it hurt? "Sure, if that's what you really want."

 

"It is." Riku's eyes lifted to Sora's. As Sora watched, their pupils seemed to glow, becoming a bright shade of green as they dilated. His voice, when he spoke again, was hypnotic, wrapping fluff around Sora's mind, pulling him into an embrace of clouds and warmth. "Sora…"

 

Sora nodded, leaning forward, as though that could make him closer to that wonderful, wonderful voice.

 

This was such peaceful oblivion…

 

"I want you to recall everything I asked you to forget that morning I came to you." Pain laced the voice, so strong Sora's eyes stung with it. Tears bubbled up on his lashes, blurring his vision, making Riku waver in and out of focus. "Can you do that for me?"

 

"Yes." Sora's voice cracked in the shared pain.

 

"Good. Remember, Sora. And if you can, try not to hate me this time."

 

The pupils retracted. The glow dimmed to what was now a muted green in comparison. The soothing quality to that voice left, and with it, the pain.

 

Sora blinked his eyes, not understanding why they were wet. He sniffled as he stared at Riku. For several moments, he sat that way, almost hollow on the inside, trying to figure out what had happened, where the last few moments had gone. They were like dreams, slipping through his fingers faster and faster the more he tried to focus on them.

 

Then, with a sudden jolt, he remembered.

 

He remembered everything.


	6. Know What You Did in the Dark

 

 

Shit.

 

Shit, shit, shit.

 

"Sora?"

 

The memories of the past couple of weeks meshed with those he'd had before the accident. Instantly, a migraine was screaming behind his eyes, and he groaned, clutching at the sides of his head, slumping forward. Riku was instantly there to grip Sora, to pull him close.

 

"I'm so sorry—Sora—don't hate me—"

 

In that moment, he didn't have the strength to shove him off. "There's a reason I ran away, Riku…" Sora's chest hurt. That throb was coming directly from his heart. It made his throat lock up, and a horrible noise left his mouth. At the sound of it, Riku's grip tightened.

 

"You were mine, Sora. You were mine, and we were so _happy_ …"

 

He was right. They had been happy. So very, very happy.

 

And then things had gone so horribly wrong.

 

"Food," Sora said, just so he'd have some time by himself to think. Riku hesitated, clearly reluctant to let go of him. But when Sora said nothing further to his whispered pleas, he rose and left the room. After that, Sora buried his face in his hands and struggled to focus on just _breathing_.

 

In and out of the chest… in and out… air… filling the lungs… releasing…

 

Releasing…

 

Had it been so long ago, that he had met Riku? Back then, he hadn't known what he was. Just that he was a boy, around Sora's age, who hadn't spoken to anybody else, who had been new in class, who followed Sora around. It had been cute. Like a pretty, lost puppy. It wasn't until far too late that Sora discovered Riku had never been what he seemed, and by that time, Sora had spent most of his life growing up with him.

 

But Riku had never grown, had he? He'd been the same. He could shift his form. He—

 

 _Squall_.

 

Sora leapt to his feet. He had to be quiet. He had to be careful. Since he knew Riku was in the kitchen gathering up some semblance of a meal, he tiptoed through the familiar house until he found where Riku kept his keys. Then, still dressed in Riku's PJs, he slipped out the front door and to the shiny car that was parked on the driveway, covered in an inch of snow. Riku had likely heard the click of the doorknob by now—they had pretty keen ears, these creatures. He had to move fast.

 

He had just buckled in and twisted the key in the ignition when Riku appeared at the front of the hood, a plate with a sandwich on it in his hand, his eyes boring into Sora's through the windshield. But Sora knew enough, with his memories intact, to drop his eyes. He wouldn't be glamoured again. Riku had done too much damage in that department, and he wasn't letting him get away with it anymore.

 

"That wasn't very nice, Sora." Riku lifted his voice so Sora could hear it inside the car.

 

"I have to get home to my husband. He's worried about me." Sora spoke at a normal level. He locked the doors for good measure and then peeled out of the driveway. Riku could stop him if he really wanted—fast enough to catch up to him, or strong enough to wrench open the door. But if he really wanted to earn Sora's trust back, he'd let him go, like a bird out of a gilded cage.

 

Once down the road, Sora looked into the rearview mirror. Riku was standing right where he had left him.

 

* * *

 

At the sound of the front door of their house slamming closed, Squall tossed down his book he hadn't been able to read and scrambled to the kitchen. Seeing Sora's familiar brown spikes sent a flood of relief through him, so much so that he sagged against a counter. Then anger took its place, though he did his best to keep it back. He _had_ to be understanding. They had to work through this.

 

Sora came right up to him, closer than he'd willingly been in what seemed like ages, and cupped Squall's face in his hands. Then he brought their lips together. Warmth shot through Squall with a heady rush, and although confused, he tangled a hand in Sora's hair and pulled him closer. The gesture was so sweetly familiar that, for a moment, it made him forget everything that had gone on since the incident.

 

Then his husband pulled back, breathless. "Squall. Squall—I remember…" His voice shook with barely contained emotions. Squall stared at him, unwilling to believe he had just heard right, even if his tingling lips spoke for themselves. "I remember everything."

 

"What… how…?"

 

But Sora shook his head. "It doesn't matter right now. We have to get out of here." He grabbed Squall's wrist, dragging him toward their bedroom. "We can pack lightly. Just for a few days. Just the essentials. Then we need to see if we can go stay with your dad."

 

"He's out of the country—"

 

"Even better. We won't have to involve him. But we have to get away _now_. He'll be here any second." Sora left Squall standing in the middle of their bedroom to get to the closet. Their luggage was in there. "Okay. Go get the car started? It'll just be—"

 

Quiet.

 

Eerie quiet.

 

Dread clenching Sora's heart, he lowered the bag he was holding and slowly turned around.

 

Squall lay slumped on the floor, his eyes shut. Riku was above him, his eyes narrowed.

 

"Please tell me you didn't kill him," Sora begged in a whisper.

 

"Just told him to go to sleep for a while."

 

Distrusting, Sora tossed aside the pack and knelt at Squall's side. A quick feel of his pulse revealed that it was still there, albeit a weak one. He breathed in relief. If Riku had killed him, there would be no going back, no forgiveness. Not that there had been much of the latter to begin with. Not after what had happened a few years back, when Sora had seen what he was not supposed to see.

 

He could still remember that red-haired woman, her hands white fists in Riku's shirt as she pleaded for him to kill her.

 

And he had.

 

Sora lifted angry blue eyes to Riku, but the other man had a look of complete apathy on his face, green eyes empty.

 

"You can't just _glamour_ him."

 

"He would have fought me. I would have had to bash his face in." Riku shrugged, as if it even came close to something as simple as that. Worse yet, his voice had a mixture of formalness in it now, betraying how old he really was.

 

"He would have been within his right! This is _our house_ —you have no right being here!"

 

The other man—if he could be called that—glanced rather pointedly at Sora's discarded bag. "You planned on leaving again, Sora. I couldn't have that."

 

Sora shook Squall gently, trying to rouse him.

 

"You're mine, after all," Riku continued. "And I really don't know why you have bothered with this… human." His nose wrinkling, Riku nudged Squall's prone form with his toe. "Why, when we both know that it's me you love?"

 

"Riku—that was a _long_ time ago. And it was definitely before I figured out what you really are." Not that that was entirely true. But he had gotten the gist of it. Whatever Riku was, he was evil. No doubts about that. "I _ran away_ from you. And then, after all that time, what do you do? You show up again, you take my memory away!" Sora clutched Squall to him, cradling his head in his lap as he glared up at Riku. "You said you loved me once…"

 

"I _do_." The two words were like the crack of a whip.

 

"Then _why_ have you done this shit?" Sora just prayed that Riku hadn't done anything extra to his husband that he'd neglected to mention. "Huh? Who does that? Who takes away the memory of the person they love, and then swoops in to try and what—win me back over? Is that what you were doing?"

 

Riku said nothing, but his eyes weren't friendly.

 

"Well, great game plan, Riku, because now I _really_ don't trust you!"

 

"You ran away from me, Sora. You married this man. You are not his. You are _mine_."

 

"Jesus fucking _Christ_ , it's the same shit over and over and _over again_! What part of this don't you understand?!" Sora thunked the side of his head. "I'm not yours! I don't belong to you—I certainly don't belong to Squall… I don't belong to _anyone_. I am not _property_. I am myself!"

 

"You remembered the taste of my blood well enough." Riku took a step closer. "You drank more of it than you ever have before."

 

Words failed Sora. Exasperated and frightened both, he dropped his eyes. "I wasn't in my right mind… you glamoured me…"

 

"Don't you remember what I told you long ago, Sora?" Riku knelt on the other side of Squall, but he didn't reach for Sora, not yet. He more than likely knew Sora would jerk away from him. "That the body remembers blood? That the want for my blood can't come from a glamour? That if you take it, you take it because you _want_ to?"  

 

"Stop it," Sora whispered.

 

"No," Riku said pleasantly, "I won't. And why should I? You condemn me for I still know not what—" and there was that archaic accent again "—yet you refuse to accept that, perhaps, the only reason you've condemned me at all is because you feel guilty. You feel guilty for the things I've made you enjoy."

 

"Please. Stop it."

 

"Tell me why you don't want to be with me, and I will."

 

"Seriously?" Sora couldn't keep the disbelief out of his tone. "Don't you think that maybe it has something to do with _this_? With all of this?"

 

Riku settled back on his butt, curling his arms around his knees. A brow lifted, showing he was listening. "Why don't you start with the beginning, Sora?"

 

"Oh, you mean when you killed that red-haired girl?!" Sora clutched at Squall more fiercely, but his husband wasn't stirring. Maybe that _was_ for the best. Squall was no match for Riku, and he would definitely try to protect Sora. 

 

"Red-haired…?" Riku paused, then smiled. "Kairi," he said softly. "I thought you probably saw that." He gave what sounded like a wistful sigh and looked off to the side, hands tapping against his shins. He looked so casual like that, like he could be a fellow student sharing classes with Sora. How he went from one extreme to the other was beyond Sora. It drove him batty. But Riku only held a tenuous grip on his voice when he was upset with Sora.

 

And he had never had a reason to be until Sora had kicked him out of his life.

 

"That wasn't what it looked like, Sora. She's not dead."

 

"Oh, yeah? Well, that's what it looked like to me." Sora tried to make the words cold, but it was difficult with his voice beginning to shake. Cursing himself inwardly, he dropped his eyes to Squall's peaceful face. It disturbed Sora, because Squall _never_ looked peaceful, not even when he was slumbering. The man was grumpy even whilst dreaming.

 

"That's because you were _assuming_ shit again, and you ran off." Riku sounded mild. Sora couldn't make himself look at him. Not yet. Not when he was so close to falling apart. "Kairi came to me. She was tired of this life—"

 

"I don't want to hear it!" Sora hadn't meant to yell. It had just come out, choking up his throat, making it spasm from the pain being so close to Riku was causing him. "I don't _care_ about anything you have to tell me. You know what you've done, Riku. You know it was wrong. You did it, anyway. I can't—I can't…" He shook his head. "Just get out."

 

"I'm—"

 

"JUST GET OUT!" Sora screamed at him. His fingers dug into Squall's shoulders so tightly, had the other man been awake, it would have hurt him. "I don't want to see you! I don't _want_ you here! I ran away from you for a reason! So just get out! Go!"

 

"I can't."

 

"Why?" Sora wanted to throw something in his frustration.

 

"Because, deep down, you don't really want me to."

 

His laughter, then, was hoarse when it left Sora's throat, and very brittle. They were going in endless circles. "I know what I want, Riku," he said hollowly. "Please just go."

 

"What if I made a bargain with you?"

 

"Will it make you _leave_?"

 

"If that's what you think you want, yes. If you hear me out, I'll leave."

 

"Fine." Sora waved a hand at him. At this point, he would listen to anything Riku had to say if it would get him to go, to go and leave him in peace, once and for all.

 

"Were you to be with me, Sora… We would have forever. You could be with Squall until he died. And then we could resume our lives together."

 

"That's what you think I want?" Sora lifted his head at last. "To live forever?"

 

"No. No one really wants that, no matter what they think." Riku rubbed a thumb across his chin. "But to be at the side of someone you love… to never have to leave it…" He shrugged. "Some people would give anything for that."

 

"Riku, I don't love you!"

 

"Then look me in the eyes and tell me that!" All pleasantries had left Riku's expression again as he glared challengingly at Sora. His chin lifted ever so slightly. "Do it, Sora. If you really don't love me, then tell me."

 

_"Hey, doofus. I missed you yesterday."_

_"Geh! Riiiku! Stop messing with my hair! Took me forever to fix it this morning!"_

Sora blinked hard and looked away. He hated himself in that moment, because the words, no matter how hard he tried to prove Riku wrong, would not come. Some things couldn't be forgotten, no matter how much you wished that wasn't the case. And he had had a long time to grow to love Riku.

 

"Dad said… he said you wanted my light…"

 

"I do. But not for the reasons he thinks." Riku's hand rested on Sora's forearm. "Look at me, Sora? Please…?" Coaxing, those words. So sweet, pleading.

 

Sora clenched his eyes shut.

 

"We can do two things with light, Sora. We can take it for ourselves, consume it to make us stronger. Or we can use it to draw out our own light, to connect with someone. It's close to what you humans call soul mates. We share power. We share thoughts. The bond is so deep, no one could ever hope to touch it."

 

"I don't want that with you, Riku." Sora's eyes were wet.

 

For just a second, Riku's fingers tightened. Then they released. "Do you mean that?"

 

"Yes. I really do."

 

"So that's it, then? Despite everything, you choose _him_?"

 

"I want to grow old with him." Tasting salt on his lips, Sora raised his now wet face to Riku's, just like he had wanted. "I love him. And he loves me. And there's nothing bad there, Riku. There's nothing…" He had to close his eyes to compose himself.

 

For the first time, Riku's breath seemed unsteady. "Do you really love him? Or are you settling for him because of the hole I've left in your heart?"

 

"God damn it, Riku, it's not like that—"

 

Riku's palm covered Sora's heart, cutting the smaller man off. Blue eyes met green. "Shut up. I can feel it. Don't you get it? I've known the beat of your heart since I met you. Since I felt your light, since it drew me to you."

 

_Snow… swirling everywhere… Riku, short but still taller than Sora, even then, with his coat buttoned up all the way to his chin, and his green eyes so solemn in his childlike face. And Sora, naïve Sora, gripping his hands, promising they would be the best of friends._

"And don't you think, that after all that time, I might be a part of you despite what you want?" Riku's hand slid up, cupping Sora's cheek, his thumb rubbing over the curve of it. Sora shivered despite himself, his lashes fluttering. "Don't you think that maybe the proximity to each other strengthened our bond? That slowly, you gave me your light, and I didn't steal it? That I just shared it?"

 

Without Squall in his lap, Sora could have forgotten everything, could have sank into Riku's touches, his words, let himself be swept away. It had always been that way before. Before everything was ruined. Before he saw that slender girl—Kairi—sprawled on the floor of Riku's home.

 

"My father—"

 

"He was swept into Vanitas' darkness. And Terra into Ethoran's. Neither of them were strong enough to resist that allure. They were both deceived. But I've never been dishonest with you, Sora. After all this time, I could have taken your light for my own. I haven't. Doesn't that mean something?" 

 

"You took away my _memory_ , Riku!" Sora leaned out of Riku's touch. It was clouding his thoughts. He couldn't have that. Not again. "You had me drink your blood."

 

"You _wanted_ it—"

 

"It doesn't matter, because I wasn't in my right mind! Being compelled to go with you—to think nothing was wrong—that's not _real_ , Riku."

 

"It _could_ be real," the other man pressed. "Just be with me, Sora—or give me a chance to be your friend again."

 

"Please just get _out_ ," Sora groaned. The longer Riku pleaded with him, the weaker he grew. He knew he couldn't stand up to that for long. Not where Riku was concerned. Probably not where anyone was concerned. Sora never could stand seeing someone in pain, no matter what they had done. He was too gentle by far.

 

"Take my blood."

 

Sora's eyes widened. " _What_?"

 

"Take my blood, and I'll leave."  

 

"You're out of your mind if you think I'm—"

 

"Take it, and you won't see me again. I promise. Not unless you come to me on your own."

 

Once again, they locked gazes. Once again, Sora felt his heart stutter. He hated that Riku could make him feel this way. He hated that he allowed it. Those green eyes of Riku's had never _not_ done him in. They were too intense, too easy to drown in, full of promises Sora was sure he had no intentions of keeping. And it was going to hurt so bad, in the end. But he was going to do it, anyway, wasn't he? Believe in him, just this once.

 

"You promise?" Sora could feel Squall's soft hair between his fingers.

 

In answer, Riku closed his eyes and lifted his wrist. A moment later, his fangs extended, and the sight of them made Sora's breath catch. He wasn't sure with what. A mixture of strange arousal and fear, panic? Then those pearly white incisors were slicing into the meat of Riku's wrist, and blood was flowing, a dark, dark red, nearly black, and thick.

 

Silently, Riku held out his wrist.

 

Knowing this was a horrible idea but wanting Riku out of his life again, Sora set Squall's head gently on the floor. Then he scooted over to Riku and wrapped his fingers around Riku's forearm. He stared at the blood there for a long moment, the sight of it making his stomach turn over. But he knew how it tasted, fragments of memories Riku hadn't entirely stolen away from him from that night he'd left Squall so recently.

 

With a deep breath, he lowered his lips to the two neat puncture wounds.

 

Heaven.

 

Pure, blissful heaven.

 

The next few moments were lost to him. His mind was a swirl of intoxication, the blood sweet on his tongue, like the richest of chocolates. Some part of him cautioned—too much, and he'd just throw it back up again. It was enough to draw him to some kind of mindset where he could make sense of things, and his swallows slowed to sips as his lashes fluttered open.

 

He was cradled against Riku's chest, Riku's wrist pressed greedily to his mouth. Riku was rocking him slowly, his fingers buried in Sora's spikes, stroking them gingerly. Instead of pulling away like he knew he should have, Sora leaned deeper into Riku's arms, his eyes closing again as he settled to get more comfortable. As an end result, they were half-spooning, Riku's legs drawn up around Sora's, both of Riku's arms holding Sora as Sora tilted his head back against Riku's chest.

 

Each swallow of blood was like warmth in his chest, almost too hot for comfort, but cool enough to be just this side of pleasant. His tongue worked around the two wounds on the pale flesh, working more blood free. Sensing his wants, Riku tightened his hand into a fist to accommodate Sora. Fresh blood splattered across his tongue, and he sighed contentedly.

 

"Do you remember how it used to be?" Riku whispered into his hair. "We loved each other so much…"

 

It was true. They'd been attached at the hip.

 

But Riku—Riku had known all along that he…

 

"I still love you, Sora… I miss you…"

 

The blood combined with Riku's soothing voice was making Sora's mind lull to one of complacency. He tried to fight it off, yet couldn't. Not for that moment. Not when the promise of all that could have been was so sharp.

 

And in that moment of weakness, Sora allowed himself to remember when he'd fallen in love with Riku. Normally, the memory would have dulled, faded with age. But right then, it was sharp in his mind, bursting into color, overriding everything. His eyes fluttered closed, his breath drawing in as he released Riku's wrist. It was like a dream, rushing for him, blanketing him.

 

Scant seconds later, he was asleep, cradled in a world where there was no pain.

 

Riku dropped a kiss to his hair. He wanted to take Sora with him, but he knew if he did that, Sora would never forgive him. He'd already strained their relationship enough. But now he knew what had caused Sora to draw away from him—Kairi—and he had gotten Sora to take his blood. And for just now, he could have Sora recollect all that they had shared. He was confident that it would make Sora come to him on his own.

 

And truthfully, Riku wouldn't accept any other outcome.

 

Not when he stood to lose so much.


	7. All Along, It Was a Fever

 

 

Riku was smiling, sprawled on his stomach on Sora's bed, their lit textbook spread out before them. Sora was at his side, and their shoulders were touching. Sora had just cracked a joke, the reason for one of Riku's rare smiles, and both were in an incredibly good mood. So good, in fact, that Sora's skin was practically humming from it.

 

"That was the stupidest joke I've ever heard, Sora. And I've been alive for a long time."

 

There it was. The secret Riku had divulged to Sora only very recently. The one about what he really was—or the gist of it. Even Riku didn't know the name for his species. He just knew what he did to survive, and the long years he'd spent with his maker, Ethoran. He'd been miserable for centuries—until Sora.

 

The details on that were still a little foggy. Sora knew that Riku had been drawn to his "light," whatever that was, and wanting to be closer to it, had glamoured himself as a kid around Sora's age. That way, he wouldn't freak Sora out, he'd explained. They'd be able to grow up together, become close.

 

"Like best friends?" Sora had asked.

 

Riku had only given the barest of nods, averting his eyes.

 

Sora mused on that. Riku's response was similar to what he was feeling lately. Sora wanted to be _more_ than best friends. As much as Sora tried to fight it, the feeling was there. Hell, he hadn't even known his sexual orientation leaned toward boys until seeing Riku everyday had started eliciting strange, fluttery feelings in his chest and elsewhere. Even then, it hadn't been a coming out crisis. Being attracted to Riku was as natural as breathing.

 

And over time, those pangs of arousal had deepened. It wasn't just lust—it grew into _more_. He felt completely comfortable around Riku. He wanted Riku to know all of his secrets. He loved the way Riku _moved_ , so fluidly, with a grace that Sora would never manage. He loved it when Riku played the violin, and how Sora could spend hours listening to him.

 

He loved—

 

Loved…

 

Sora flipped onto his back, causing Riku to raise his eyebrows in question. He lifted his mechanical pencil to poke Sora in the nose, and Sora brushed it away with a mock angry face.

 

"Hey, quit it."

 

"What's up, goof?" Riku pushed his bangs out of his eyes.

 

"Um… can we talk about something?" The words were shy. Sora wasn't accustomed to being even _remotely_ shy—he'd always prided himself on being the exact opposite, actually—but Riku did this to him continuously. Caused him to explore new things.

 

Riku set his pencil down.

 

Taking that as encouragement, Sora slowly, hesitantly, drew his fingers up Riku's forearm to where the shirt of his uniform was rolled up to his elbow. His throat tight, he traced the soft, pale skin, not daring to look up. What if he'd been horribly wrong and had completely misread Riku's actions toward him? Mistaken them as mutual attraction when they were nothing more than strictly platonic?

 

It was possible. He'd been wrong about things before.

 

But anything was possible. And who hadn't been wrong at some point in their life?

 

"Riku…" Sora swallowed. His pulse was thudding at his throat. He tried not to let it distract him too much. "I'm… um…"

 

His best friend was being so, so quiet.

 

Several moments passed. Sora couldn't seem to get the words out. Finally, after the quiet grew too agonizing, Sora squeezed his eyes shut, leaned up, and pressed his lips to Riku's in a gentle, but firm kiss.

 

When he drew back, his eyes still shut, Riku followed him. Sora gasped as warm lips pressed to his own, and Riku's fingers slid into his hair, curling around the back of his head. Before Sora could adjust to the fact that he was being _kissed_ by _Riku_ , Riku's tongue probed between his lips, and then Sora was making a soft, deep noise in his throat, and the world narrowed down to the body sliding half on top of his.

 

Sora wrapped his hand over the back of Riku's hip, pulling him closer. Their tongues tangled with a wet suckle and a firm slide, and Riku settled more closely on top of Sora. One of his arms curled over where the top of his head rested on the bed. The other touched his stomach, sliding beneath his shirt to stroke the tanned flesh of Sora's tummy. Sora arched at that, hissing a little bit, as it both tickled and made his stomach tighten into thousands of delicious knots.

 

Though Sora had had a few experimental kisses in his lifetime, it was nothing compared to _Riku_. Riku's lifetime, after all, was infinitely longer, and he had more experience behind his lips than Sora could dare to dream of ever achieving. Being on the other end of it was amazing, though, and so Sora let himself relish it instead of envying it too much.

 

Riku knew how to draw every sigh Sora was capable of making out of him. He knew all the sensitive places of Sora's mouth and tongue. His fingers, where they stroked Sora's side, over his ribs, knew just the right amount of pressure that rode that thin line between still ticklish and pleasant. Being under his hands was completely—completely—

 

"I love you," Sora gasped as the kiss broke.

 

Riku rubbed his thumb over Sora's kissed-bruised lips. "I love you, too… so much… you know that, don't you?"

 

Happiness filled Sora so completely that he wanted to do something ridiculous like go sing about hearts and rainbows out in the streets. He hadn't known—well, he had, but hearing it was so different from just assuming, from thinking that maybe, just maybe, Riku returned his feelings. But he _did_. They loved each other.

 

He had never been so blissfully ecstatic in his entire life.

 

But it wasn't destined to last.

 

_"Squall, stop! Just stop! I'm sick of fighting with you! That's all we do anymore!"_

 

_"Well, what do you want me to do, Sora?!"_

_"I don't know! Okay?! I don't know!"_

_"I can't stop what I'm doing if you don't even know what it is you want me to stop! You do realize that, don't you?"_

_"Stop talking to me like I'm an idiot, for starters!"_

_"Hm."_

_"What's_ that _supposed to mean?!"_

_"It means I'm sick of this, too."_

_"What do_ you _have to be sick about? You're the one who closes himself off, who never opens up to me, who—Squall! Oh, my God! Squall, look o—"_

Red and white lights… flashing over and over and over again… and it was so, so cold in the snow…

 

Sora stared weakly across the expanse of the yard he was in. There was the car, crumpled up against the tree Squall had hit. His husband was slumped against the steering wheel. As Sora watched, his vision very blurry, Squall started coming to. He lifted his head. Crimson soaked his face. There was a deep cut across the bridge of his nose. The other man looked around in a panic, searching, searching desperately for—

 

"Sora!"

 

When Sora woke from his memories, he was screaming. It was an awful, bloodcurdling sound, and he couldn't make it stop. His arm was thrust in the air before him, and he was struggling with someone. That someone needed to let him go, he had to get to Squall, he had to see if he was okay, he—

 

"Stop it, get off me, get off me!" he yelled. The sheets flew around him as he made a mad dodge for the edge of the bed.

 

"Sora, get a hold of yourself! It's okay! I'm here!"

 

"I NEED SQUALL! LET GO OF ME! SQUALL!" Sora's voice was quickly growing hoarse from the volume of his screams. "SQUALL!"

 

"Sora!"

 

"SQUALL! SQUALL!"

 

" _Sora_!" Hands gripped his face, jerked it around. Familiar gray eyes bore hard into his own. The only thing different about that face was the scar tissue between the eyes. Sora went quiet, his struggles stilling, his breath ragged, his throat burning.

 

Squall lowered his hands to Sora's shoulders. "You were dreaming. It was just a bad dream. I'm right here." He rubbed them, alternating the motion with squeezes, ones meant to be gentle and calming. His expression was a little awkward, like he wasn't used to comforting Sora. He wasn't. Sora couldn't remember the last time he had.

 

But it meant more than anything that he was trying.

 

"You were… passed out on the steering wheel… you were bleeding so heavily…" Sora touched Squall's forehead, and his husband didn't pull away. 

 

"You really do remember…" Squall breathed.

 

"Y-Yeah…" Sora nodded uncertainly. "But… how did we get in bed?"

 

"I, uh…" Squall cleared his throat. "I woke up. We were both passed out on the floor. I'm really… not sure how we got there. But I moved us to the bed. We've been asleep for awhile."

 

"Squall…" Sora whispered. "I'm—I'm…" God, his eyes were burning. He had to blink hard and look away. "I'm sorry—about the accident, about our fight—"

 

"Shh, don't." The other man kissed Sora's forehead, cradling the back of his neck and pulling him forward. Sora was met with Squall's warm shoulder, and he closed his eyes, instantly sinking into him. "Just don't."

 

"But—"

 

"Don't."

 

_Squall…_

* * *

 

Ventus stared into the depths of the fire Terra had made for them. Terra himself was long gone, out into the cold, and Ventus had no idea when he would be back. So he stood there, just before the hearth, a frown shadowing his brow, his thoughts lost in the flickering, yellow flames.

 

Terra… He had never thought he'd see such disgust on Terra's face before. Bad enough to take a wife, after their vows. But to have her bear children… twins, at that… It was unthinkable. Ventus knew this. Of course he did. He understood Terra's reaction. He would have had the same if it had been reverse, if it had been Terra, had he married Aqua.

 

But the thought of living in a world without his sons… their golden smiles…

 

He swallowed, realizing his lashes were wet. He couldn't remember the last time he cried. When Terra had found him, all those centuries ago? He'd had a lot to cry about then. Everything had been so difficult, and then Terra had saved him, and things had gotten better for a time, until Ventus found out the truth. That Terra's life was bound to Ethoran's, and so would be Ventus'.

 

 _"If you know what's good for you…"_ Ventus could still hear Terra's whisper in the quiet of his mind. _"Run now…"_

 

Ventus' mouth formed the words he had said in return, though not a sound was uttered into the stillness of the room. _"But I love you."_

 

_"You don't know what love is."_

_"I do, I do!"_ Ventus had tugged on Terra's arm, desperate to make the other man understand. _"How can you say that?"_

 

_"Because you're just a boy. You need to experience the world. You need to realize that this twisted, dark thing between us isn't love. It's your light that I'm drawn to."_

_"So? I'm drawn to you, too!"_

_"You're drawn to what my powers make you feel."_ Terra's fingertip ghosted down the curve of his cheek. _"The allure of the predator. You're just my prey, Ven."_

And then later, years and years later, as Terra held Aqua's limp, unmoving form, _"This is how our kind loves, Ven. Do you see?"_ He lifted his hand, and in its palm was a swirling ball of golden light. _"This is our food. This is how we survive. It's in our nature to seduce you, to take this from you. And what's left is just a shell of yourself."_

 

Ventus' hands fisted. _"Is that what I am? A shell of myself?"_

_"Can't you feel it? That you're cold?"_

To this day, he still felt it. Ventus touched over his heart now, digging his fingers in. It still beat beneath his palm, but it was sluggish. The fervor of human life had left it long ago. All that was left was the icy certainty that he was buried in ice, trapped there, able to glimpse the light from behind its marble encasing, but too frozen to break free and take it back again.

 

Besides…

 

Should he take it back, it would mean ending Terra's life.

 

That was the only way to get your light back. Taking it from the heart of the creature that had eaten it.

 

* * *

 

Sora watched Squall shave the shadow of his beard from Sora's perch on the toilet seat. His husband worked in silence, occasionally tapping his razor against the sink's edge to clear hairs and shaving cream. Squall paid him no mind, focused wholly on his task.

 

After the fifth click of the razor on porcelain, Sora spoke up. "We should leave."

 

"Leave?" Squall raised his eyebrows.

 

"Yeah… Leave here." Sora got to his feet. "Leave this place behind, move somewhere else."

 

The older man gave him an odd look. "We can't just pack up and leave."

 

"Why not?"

 

"We own this house, for one…"

 

Sora waved a hand. "Who cares about that?"

 

"Me?" Squall finished with his shaving and rinsed his face before cleaning out the sink and turning to the shorter man. "What's this about?" He wrapped his arms around Sora's waist and pulled him close.

 

 _The blood_. Sora licked his lips. "It's not safe here."

 

"Not safe here?" Squall echoed.

 

"Yeah…" Once again, anxiety swirled in Sora's chest at the thought of telling Squall what was happening. He still believed that Squall would attribute his "tall tales" to his brain injury. Not that Sora could blame him—far from it. But it didn't make it any easier, holding this knowledge to himself.

 

Squall was his _husband_. They had never kept secrets from one another… only the one about Riku.

 

 _But,_ Sora thought suddenly, _maybe if I… tell a_ version _of the truth… he'll believe me…_

 

"I knew this guy…" He pulled away, bracing his hands to either side of Squall's waist against the sink. He had to tilt his head back to look up at the much taller brunet. When Squall only raised an eyebrow, Sora sighed, hesitating. Maybe this was a bad idea… but how _else_ was he going to get Squall to abandon their home?

 

"I knew this guy," he began again. "We were best friends from, like… forever ago. Since we were kids. I forget the exact age—"

 

"Sora."

 

Right. Squall hated beating around the bush.

 

So Sora got straight to the point. "He's a little crazy." As Squall's eyes first widened and then narrowed, Sora plowed forward, wanting to get his story out before Squall could twenty-question him. "Like, _really_ crazy. I managed to get away from him—moved after we graduated high school. Around the time I met you, actually."

 

With another sigh, this one deeper, Sora whirled away, pushing his hands into his hair. He recognized the gesture as Squall's. The two had rubbed off on one another throughout the course of their marriage, which was normal and touching, telling Sora even more that he needed to get out of here if he wanted to save everything he had with Squall—before Riku tore it to pieces. And he would, one way or another. He had that power—too _much_ power…

 

Sora shivered. "Anyway. Um. He… found me again. He drugged me the other night—I think he used my memory loss to his advantage…"

 

" _What_?" Squall exploded. He gripped Sora's shoulder and forced the shorter man to face him.

 

"Yeah." Sora grinned sheepishly, but as the fury in Squall's eyes continued to mount, Sora wilted. "He's stalking me again. I don't know how he found me, but—whoa. Where are you going?"

 

Squall didn't pause as he stormed from the bathroom. "To call the cops."

 

It was Sora's turn to explode. " _What_?! Squall, no—you can't!" Oh, God, Squall was only asking to get his ass handed to him!

 

Sora rushed after him, grabbing his elbow. Squall, the stronger of the two, ripped away. His arms flew out to either side of him as his eyes blazed down at Sora.

 

"Why the hell _not_?! Some psycho is threatening my baby—"

 

"Threatening? No, no—he's harmless—" _Pffft_ , Sora thought.

 

"HARMLESS? ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR GODDAMN MIND? HE _DRUGGED_ YOU!"

 

Shit. Squall was losing it.

 

Sora gripped his hands. They were standing in the middle of their bedroom now, and Sora was afraid their neighbors might call the police if their yelling continued, thinking it was a domestic fight. "Okay! He's not harmless! And that's exactly why we should just _go_! The guy is, like—…" Sora released him, throwing up his hands. Great. He should have just kept his mouth shut.

 

 _But then you'd still be in danger,_ logic tried to reason with him.

 

Fuck logic! Squall was going ballistic!

 

"Just _listen_ to me, okay?! Riku is the _last_ person we want to call the cops on!"

 

"What the _fuck_ , Sora!"

 

"I'm serious!" Sora pleaded. "He's got friends in high places! He'll—I don't know, okay?! I just know that sending cops after him _won't_ end good! For either of us!"

 

"So, what, we're supposed to just— _let_ some psychopath keep fucking with you?"

 

Sora had never seen Squall look so pissed. It was both sexy and scary, at the same time, a dizzying sensation Sora had never experienced before. He wasn't quite sure what to do with himself. His loins said jump Squall. His brain said try to calm him the fuck down before he did something remarkably stupid, like going after Riku personally and getting himself killed.

 

"No!" Sora shook his head. "We're supposed to… vanish again!"

 

"If he found you _once_ , don't you think he'll find you _again_? And the _last_ thing I'm going to do is run from some chump! You're my husband! This is our house, our _home_! We have _friends_ here! So common _sense_ dictates that we call the fucking cops and get a restraining order!"

 

"With what _proof_?!" Sora fired back. "We can't say he drugged me! How are we going to prove that?!"

 

Squall was on the move again, and this time, he brushed Sora off all the way into the kitchen. Sora stared in astonishment as Squall shrugged into his bomber jacket, grabbed his keys, and slipped into the garage from the kitchen. For a moment, all Sora could do was stand helplessly in the doorway, gaping after his husband.

 

"Stay here," Squall demanded.

 

"Squall!" Sora yelled. "You don't even know Riku's last name—you don't even know what he _looks_ like!"

 

But Squall wouldn't answer him. A minute later, the garage door opened, and Squall's BMW reversed and was out of sight.

 

Sora kicked the doorframe.

 

God _damn_ it!

 

 


	8. Even If You Cannot Hear My Voice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Square Enix's Kingdom Hearts, nor am I making any money off this fanfiction. 
> 
> ________________________________________
> 
> Author's Notes… 
> 
> Sorry for the very long delay. A special thanks, as usual, to hesteen and tsukinofaerii for beta-ing this for me. You guys are the best! And another thanks for all of you who are still reading this and haven't given up on me. You're my motivation for finishing this story, believe me.

Squall had to be the stupidest, most stubborn—

"And you haven't heard from him?" Sora rubbed above his right eyebrow, where a headache was steadily growing, pounding away at the inside of his skull. His other hand kept his phone pressed to his ear, so hard he was making the plastic creak.

"No," Cloud replied.

Damn. So much for that plan.

Sora thanked Cloud for his time and signed off the call. He leaned against the kitchen counter, thumping his cell phone against his chin, lost in his thoughts. He had thought for sure that Squall would go to Cloud. The doctor, after all, was Squall's best friend, now that Seifer and Rinoa had moved away. Cloud, though quiet and withdrawn, was the first person that Squall usually turned to, when he didn't have Sora.

And surely they had been spending time together lately, while Sora had been dealing with his memory loss…

But no, Cloud hadn't heard from Squall, and Cloud wasn't one for the drama involved with lying.

_Agh, Squall! Why do you have to be so hardheaded?!_

Making a face, Sora shoved on his snow boots and trod out into the cold. He put his hands in the pockets of his hoodie and tried not to freeze. His gaze swept first one way down the road, and then the other. He wasn't even really sure what he was doing. Standing out in his yard wasn't going to bring Squall back—neither was gawking at the neighborhood streets.

"Idiot," he muttered.

" _Who's_ an idiot?!"

Sora dodged to the side just in time to avoid a ninja attack from Yuffie. The woman landed unevenly on her feet, skidding through the snow and flailing her arms. She wobbled right at the end and face-planted. Sora laughed long and hard at that, hands on his knees as he surveyed the mess she'd made of herself.

The dark-haired girl spat out mouthfuls of snow."Pew, pew! Blagh!"

"Hahaha! That's what you get for sneaking up on me, Yuffie! Maybe next time, don't yell? It sort of gave you away."

"Yeah, yeah…" Yuffie winced as she got to her feet and rubbed her presumably sore backside. "Look, whatever. The snow is _so_ not my element."

Sora chose not to remark. It'd be too easy. "So what're you doing here?"

"I came by to see _you_! Hey, wait a minute—" Yuffie bounced forward on the balls of her feet, her brown eyes alight with happiness. "Don't tell me you remember me?"

"Of course I remember y—oof!" Sora lost his footing and slid in the snow, taking Yuffie with him as they collided, her arms pinwheeling at her sides. He was dimly aware of the woman snuggling into him, rubbing their cheeks together and talking a mile a minute. The rest of his attention was focused on the ice melting into his clothes, which was most uncomfortable.

"Awh, yay! Right on! I'm so happy! SO, SO HAPPY! YOU'RETHEBEST,SORA,DIDYOUKNOWTHAT,DIDYOUKNOWYOU'RETHEBESTEVER,'CAUSEIFYOUDIDN'T,YOUDEFINITELYSHOULD,YOUKNOW?"

"Yuffie—it's cold—"

"THEBESTHEBESTTHEBEST!AWH!SORAWORA!"

"YUFFIE!" Sora shouted in a vain attempt to grab her attention. "It's really cold!"

She sat up straight, then peered down at him, her eyes still glowing, her grin still in place. "Oh, silly me. Hehe." She shot to her feet, one arm raised toward the heavens, the other clutched in a fist at her side. "Yeah! Victory!"

_Victory for what?_ Sora thought with a tilt of his head.

Yuffie continued on with more of her shenanigans, dancing around in the snow without a care in the world.

Reluctant as he was to end her fun, there were pressing matters at hand. "Yuffie. Have you heard from Squall in, say, oh the last hour or so?"

"Nope!" Breathless, cheeks bright red from the cold, his friend rubbed her hands together for warmth. "I texted him to ask if it was cool if I came over, but he didn't answer me, so here I am!"

"Right…" Sora exhaled and put his fingers back in his hair, squeezing the strands. What was he going to _do_ …? He knew there was no way Squall even knew where to look for Riku, never mind call the cops, as he'd threatened, but…

"Awh, what's up, buddy?" Yuffie rested her hands on her hips, looking normal for once.

Sora just shook his head at her. "I—I have to go." He wasn't supposed to be driving with a brain injury, something he'd had _before_ that loss of memory, no thanks to Riku. That was just going to have to be unimportant for the moment. Sora had to find his husband, or—something.

_Wait. Something?_

Sora put his hands to his head again, squeezing his eyes shut. There was a ringing there, right between his temples, pulsing and clanging around, demanding that he pay it attention. So he did. He closed out all other thoughts and focused on it, wondering where the hell it had _come_ from. But then memory kindled, and he _knew_.

Withdrawals.

He was having blood withdrawals.

Cold speared through him, so hard that he shivered. This had happened before, back in high school, when he'd been in love with Riku and was actively feeding on his blood. Sora just hadn't remembered the withdrawals kicking in so _quickly._ This was insane. What was he going to do? He couldn't just go crawling to Riku… except that he knew if he didn't, there would be hell to pay. His body wouldn't be able to stay off it for long.

His mouth was already watering, his teeth _aching_ , wanting to dig into something. His skin felt like it was on fire, burning steadily in the light snow that dusted Yuffie and himself. And then there were his veins, just as aching and almost dry, it seemed, even though Sora knew that wasn't so.

_No, no, no!_ he frantically thought.

_Yes_ , his body seemed to whisper. _Please? More?_

Sora staggered in the yard. Dimly, he thought Yuffie called out for him, reached for him. His feet twisted over one another a second time, and he fell, one hand in the snow, the other still clutching his head. He thought he screamed. It made his heart thunder, his fears rise to the surface. It had definitely _not_ been this quickly in the past, these withdrawals. So why was it happening like this now?

_Riku did something._

But what?

He crawled through the snow, mouthing something silently, over and over again. He wasn't sure what it was, didn't care to know. Yuffie was grabbing him, trying to haul him up. He struggled out of her touches, both hands buried in the snow now, fingers splayed. The aching beat at him, relentless in its wants. Red, blue, black—they all flashed across his vision. He fell into the snow, curled up on his side, a choked sob escaping him.

The snow felt so good when he was on fire like this.

_Riku. Riku. Riku_.

His lips kept forming the name, impossible now to ignore.

_Help me. Riku. Riku. I know you can hear me. Riku._

"Holy shit! How'd you—" Yuffie yelped, only to cut herself off. "You're going to forget everything that just happened. You came to Squall's house, but no one was here. You left. You spent the rest of the afternoon being happy by yourself," a familiar voice uttered. Sora couldn't crack open his eyelashes enough to see.

Gentle hands touched him, cold and slender. They circled around his wrists, drew him out of the fetal position he'd curled into. Then two fingers touched his chin, urging his head up. When his eyes remained closed, his right one was pried open, and his pupil dilated as Riku blurred into existence.

He didn't look concerned, or mad, or sad. He didn't look like anything. A blank slate. That was what his face was. "I told you," was all he said.

Sora jerked his head away. "Go… away…" he croaked. If he had to go insane before ingesting more of Riku's blood, then that was what he would do. He had to stay loyal to Squall. He had to heed his father's warning. He had to remember what he had witnessed with that red-haired girl so long ago.

"No. You need my blood."

The sound of teeth sinking into flesh.

Sora twisted away, or at least he tried to—Riku held him fast, and then a bloody wrist was pressed to his mouth. Sora would have liked to say that he was strong, that he pushed Riku off, that he resisted the dark chocolate already sliding over his tongue. But he would have been lying to himself, because instead of doing any of those things, he was grabbing onto Riku's wrist and pulling it closer.

His mouth latched around the wound, and his tongue curled against it, suckling free what he so desperately needed. He groaned as all the aches within him began to vanish, receding with each swallow of Riku's blood. Riku's fingers slid into his hair, cradled Sora's head against his chest. Sora let him, content to drink as much of the blood as he could get.

"I love you," Riku breathed into his hair. "And we're getting away from here."

Sora wasn't of the mind to protest anymore. As long as Riku kept his wrist supplying a steady stream of blood, then Sora would go anywhere he wanted. And that was exactly what happened; Riku lifted Sora off the ground, holding him in his arms, and then… nothing but blurs. Riku was speed moving. Sora remembered that from their high school days, back when Sora had been so enchanted with every super power that Riku could perform.

The world was a kaleidoscope—snow stinging his face from rapid movement, the blue sky above, houses looking like water colors. Riku's house approached, and then everything slowed. Sora clung onto Riku's wrist as the older man let them into the front door, and he didn't let go, even as Riku carried Sora into the living room and placed him on the fine leather couch. Gently, Riku eased his wrist from Sora's mouth, and Sora protested, but he didn't reach after it. His head was flying high from the blood, and his stomach was full, more than full with it.

Riku reached up, stroking Sora's bangs off his forehead, and with the blood in his system, he could almost _hear_ Riku's thoughts. He certainly felt them, and so when Riku tilted his head and brought his lips to Sora's, Sora didn't protest. He just sighed quietly against Riku's mouth, black blood sticky on his lips and chin. Riku had no problem licking it off, taking his time with it before he suckled Sora's lower lip into his mouth and bit down. He did so with fangs freshly extended, and Sora jerked with a small cry. Riku didn't wait for permission before suckling that little bit of blood up, his moan rumbling straight through Sora.

Then Riku was kissing him again, and as their tongues tangled, Sora caught both the taste of his own, coppery blood, and Riku's bittersweet, addicting flavor. With the way they were mixing, it made a spark jolt through Sora, straight up from his spine to the base of his skull. His lashes fluttered wildly, and Riku chuckled throatily against his lips.

"You've forgotten so much," he whispered.

He had. He _had_ forgotten them. But why? Why…? He couldn't—he couldn't remember… None of it seemed all that important right at that very moment.

Riku's lips were at his throat, kissing their way to his collarbone. They nuzzled there, and then skimmed back up, lingering at Sora's jugular. Sora hummed, sliding his fingers into Riku's super silky hair, playing with the strands. He'd always admired Riku's hair, and Riku knew it. Sora could feel his grin against his skin. Riku nuzzled more, as if asking for permission.

Sora knew what he wanted.

He tilted his head back, offering easier access to Riku's desire. It didn't take long for Riku to dig in. Two sharp pinpricks of pain at Sora's throat, gone quickly as his blood was pulled through his veins to that one spot. He cried out—it had been too many years, he was sensitive all over again to the sensation. He put his arms around Riku's shoulders, held him there, let him take as much as he wanted. He'd always done that, always let Riku have his fill. He'd always trusted that Riku would never take too much.

There was a pause as Riku ripped into his own skin again, and then his fangs were back, digging deeper and harder than before. At the same time, Riku pressed his wrist to Sora's mouth, and Sora was lost in another intoxicated haze. They had never done _this_ before, fed on each other at the same time.

It was making Sora painfully aroused.

So painfully aroused, in fact, that he shoved at Riku, shoved him until he was on the couch beneath him. Riku stared up at him with startled green eyes, meaning Sora had taken him by complete surprise, or else he wouldn't have been moved so easily. Sora liked that look on him, and he took Riku's wrists, pinning them over his head as his hips covered the man's beneath him. Riku hissed through his fangs at that, the green of his irises now glowing iridescently. But he didn't move, he didn't push Sora off. He liked this, too.

God, the blood was making him so… so… so—just out of _control_. He liked it and hated it both, but the former prevailed, as he leaned down and captured Riku's lips for his own. He was rusty from years of not kissing him with fangs extended. In high school, he'd mastered that art, knew how to avoid getting his tongue sliced up.

"Ah—" He flinched as just the opposite happened, fresh copper filling his mouth.

Riku suckled on his tongue, then, pulling the blood free, and Sora had no choice but to give it to him. His fingers dug into Riku's slim wrists. They would have left bruises on anyone human. Riku's skin would remain unblemished, youthful, for all of eternity, and any damage that _did_ happen, he could heal it in an instant.

"I love you," Riku whispered again, freeing Sora's tongue, but only to deepen their kiss. "Tell me you still love me. I know you do. I just need to hear the words."

"I…" Sora sat back at that, shaking his head. It… _hurt_. It hurt, impossibly, worse than the blood withdrawals. Why? Why couldn't he say it back to Riku? He _wanted_ to.

"What is wrong?" Riku freed his hands out of Sora's loosened grasp and lifted them to cup Sora's face. The outlines of his palms felt sharp. "Speak to me, Sora." His modern day accent was gone, replaced by the one that spoke of centuries.

"I don't know." Sora squeezed his eyes shut. "You're—this—"

The other man's palm covered his heart, long fingers digging in a little. Sora felt something beat there against his breast, warm and familiar. It was his light, he knew. And he also knew that Riku could get a read off it. It was the closest he had to reading Sora's mind, short of compelling him to tell him whatever it was that was in there.

"Squall." The name was cold, icy. Not distasteful, just distant.

But the second Riku uttered it, fresh pain stabbed into Sora. He cried out, rolling away from Riku, covering his head with his arms, chin tucked against his chest. Everything—hurt. Everything just gnawed at him, demanding his attention, telling him that this was wrong. It was singing through his blood, and as Riku touched him again, a bright, brilliant pulse left his body.

His light? Protecting him? From Riku?

It had _never_ done that. It had _never_ considered Riku his enemy.

With so much of Riku's blood in his system, he could tell that it had shaken Riku up. Light, he knew, was their food—and, if Riku could be trusted, a way to bond them forever, to share in its brilliance. So what did it mean that, for the first time in years, it had rejected Riku?

Sora was stunned, all the breath knocked out of him, when he cracked open his eyes to see that Riku's were rimmed red, tears fringing his lashes. It was another first: Sora had never seen Riku cry. It made Sora's own eyes burn, welling up, and he had to close them again, lest Riku see. Not that it really mattered, because Riku would be able to feel that agony.

"Why?" Riku whispered.

"It's Squall…" Sora touched his hands over his heart. When he opened his eyes again, he saw actual light emanating from it, radiating through his fingers. He lowered his hands, and the light shone brighter, so much so that Sora had to turn his face away. For a second, he was very frightened. Riku could take his light, right now. But then he remembered—no, no. Riku couldn't. His light had to be freely given.

Slowly, hesitantly, Riku reached out, a single fingertip touching one of those rays. Sora half-expected it to burn him. It didn't, though. Riku was able to then extend more fingers through it, until he could place his palm safely over Sora's heart. It wasn't rejecting him anymore, Sora thought wildly. What did _that_ mean?

"You have not completely given up on me." Riku's accent was thicker than ever. His eyes, glowing, wouldn't look up from where his hand rested on Sora's chest. "Some part of you still harbors love for me, Sora. And as long as it does, you cannot completely repel me."

"That's impossible," Sora gasped. The light, shining like this, was quickly draining him, and he was already in pain from its summoning in the first place. "You can't love two people at once."

"It would seem that you can. This is not something I have ever encountered before. Ethoran said it would be impossible, yet… it is not. It is here, before my eyes. Your light cannot choose between us."

"Ethoran?" It wasn't a name Sora had heard before.

As if realizing he'd made a grave error, Riku cleared his throat and glanced away. His hand, however, remained firmly attached to Sora's chest. "Do not concern yourself with that. What needs to be done now…" Eyes narrowing like the predator he was, Riku returned his attention to Sora's face. "…Is to find a way to make your light choose."

Sora finally jerked out of Riku's reach. He scuttled to the other side of the couch, firmly holding onto his heart. It had finally stopped giving off that weird, lighthouse glow. "Don't do this, Riku. Don't. You won't like the answer. I already gave you up, remember?"

"It would seem you did not." Riku held out his palm, and at this gesture, the light exploded from Sora's chest all over again, more purely than it had before. "You are conflicted. Your light begs to be either devoured by one such as myself, or shared between the two of us. It has only grown as you have aged. A rarity, that, that you have not tarnished it, that it has only become more radiant."

"Just… stop…" Sora's body had started to shake all over, the light was humming through him so strongly.

"I am afraid I cannot allow you much more time to decide, Sora. There is someone, at this very moment, who would like very much to take your light for themselves. It would leave you cold, a husk, just as your father is."

"I'm not making that decision right now!" Sora yelled. "Now quit it! Make it stop doing this!"

Riku pursed his lips, but he did as Sora demanded. He swept his hand to the side, and the light faded, and Sora could breathe again as the bands restricting his chest eased up. Coughing, he fell onto his side, the leather of the couch creaking beneath him. His chin, he realized, was still sticky with Riku's blood, and he lifted trembling fingers to wipe it away.

The other man sat very still, almost statuesque. Sora would have appreciated it as a distraction, except it _wasn't_ one. No one was that still. It was creepy as fuck.

"I don't know how many times I have to tell you this, Riku," he began, drawing in a deep breath. He rubbed his fingers to try to get the blood to sort of blend into his skin and go away. It wasn't working. It was about the same as removing taffy. "But I'm not with you anymore. Those days are gone. This isn't—some kinda episode of a teenage drama, like _The Vampire Diaries_ , or—or—I don't know. _True Blood_. That's all I got for supernatural shows to go off of, even though you're not like anything in any of those shows."

"You are rambling, Sora," Riku sighed. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back against the couch.

"My _point_ is that we can't keep rehashing this again and again. We're not going to get back together a thousand times. Once… once was enough for me." On unsteady legs, Sora pushed off the sofa. He whirled to face Riku, burying his fingers in his hair. "The past is the past. I don't revisit it. I don't… do it over again. We're _done_ , Riku."

"Even if I can prove to you that I did not kill that girl?" Green eyes slipped open, narrowed as Riku's head tilted. All manipulative predator. Yet somehow… somehow…

Sora dropped his eyes and scuffed the toe of his Converse against the carpet. He hated that right in that moment, he had to remind himself that he was married. Normally, as long as he was behaving as himself, that was at the forefront of his thoughts. "Even then," he forced himself to say. It hurt more than he would like to admit.

The creature with no name for his species gave another long sigh from the couch. "That _is_ a shame, Sora."

"Yeah." Sora rubbed a fingernail over his eyebrow and did his best not to look in Riku's direction.

Seconds later, he wasn't given a choice in the matter. Riku was suddenly before him, cupping Sora's face in his hands once again. Knowing what was coming, Sora tried to squeeze his eyes shut, but it was too late. He'd caught sight of Riku's eyes, hypnotic and oh-so-promising, and he was immediately lost.

"I wanted you to come willingly," the silver-haired man whispered. "I truly did."

"What do you mean?" Sora murmured, as if in the throes of a very soft and comforting dream.

"Go to sleep, Sora."

Black began to haze over his vision. It promised him sweet nothings, and Sora, recognizing this for what it was, began to struggle. His willpower had always been too much for Riku's gentle compulsions. But this was more than gentle. Within moments, he was slipping within Riku's grasp, caught and carried to the couch, sound asleep.

Riku studied Sora for a very long time. As someone who had lived for a few centuries and still had the rest of eternity ahead of him, he wasn't keen on making rash decisions. He had to weigh several things in his head. Sora's anger versus Sora's freely given love. He had already chosen the former. He had to make up Sora's mind _for_ him. But how long could that anger possibly last with forever looming just around the corner?

He stretched out his hand, hovering it over Sora's heart. The light came out to play almost eagerly, as though it missed Riku's touch. That made Riku smile. While asleep, Sora wasn't quite so conflicted, was he? And Riku did enjoy the presence of Sora's light. It was, after all, what had drawn him to Sora in the first place.

"I love you," he whispered.

And the light answered him, blazing brilliantly in a pillar that shot straight to the ceiling. Sora was forced off the couch, hovering there obliviously, lashes touched against his cheeks in slumber.

"I really am sorry, Sora…" Riku breathed.

He did what he had promised himself he wouldn't. He rested his hand over Sora's heart, fingers perfectly splayed against the thinner man's chest. The light pulsed, as if in a cage, struggling to break free. Once before a pillar, now pinned and constricted to the palm of Riku's hand. Ice lurked at the edges, flaking away at the light, but Riku shook his head and twitched his fingers. It receded at that, a wave peeling away from the shore. It was gathering its strength, the frost and the ice, ready to slam back into the light.

Riku exhaled.

And then slowly, slowly, so carefully, as if dealing with the most delicate of snowflakes, he pulled at the light, fingertips straight and gathered. It shaped itself into a ball, almost a droplet of sorts, and hovered above Sora's heart. The light's glow grew and faded with every passing second, reflecting the condition of the heart it had come from.

"You are more willing than you think," Riku whispered, just before he took the ball of light and consumed it.


End file.
